#you don’t even give them sick leave this is the least you can do!!!! you can fully plan for it and it’s no extra cost to you it’s literally

[ur-local-anti-hero]

Dear John

Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: Maybe you should have listened to your best friend's warning about Regulus, you didn't. Now you just have to deal with the consequences.

Genre: Angst

CW: Intimidation, angst, pureblood's ideology, toxic family dynamics

Word count: 1.6K

This is part of my Speak now (Marauders' version) collection.

“Maybe it's you and your sick need. To give love then take it away

And you'll add my name to your long list of traitors, Who don't understand

And I'll look back and regret I ignored when they said, "Run as fast as you can"

You wished you had listened. The argument you had with Sirius when he learned you were dating his brother was being replayed in your head while you ran towards your boyfriend’s room. 

“He’s going to ruin you, you don’t know him like I do.” Sirius had said, voice low with anger and worry. “The moment my mother hears about you two it’s over.” 

“You’re the one that doesn’t know him!” It had angered you, Sirius assuming that Regulus’ love for you was fragile. “I really love him, and he loves me. End of discussion.” 

“You don’t understand what you’re getting into. My brother would never prioritize you over our mother. and she’s never going to accept a Gryffinfor Muggleborn as a suitable partner for Regulus” 

You knew he was right, but some part of you naively thought that Regulus truly loved you.

“I’m saying this because I care about you. You should leave while you can” you could tell Sirius was worried and meant no harm, but that argument ended your friendship with the oldest Black brother. 

That was almost a year ago, you used to have a close friendship with him, but now he wouldn’t even acknowledge you. You refused to break up with Regulus, and you really thought you were doing the right thing. Regulus had shown you every part of him, you knew about his family and all the things he had done and regretted. But you also knew about the caring, loving and kind person he was. 

Even when the war was starting to become more and more imminent as the dark lord and deatheaters won power and followers, he never showed any interest in joining into the dark lord’s lines. The abuse and intimidation became worse and worse for mugglerborns who had the bad luck of running into slytherings in the hallways. 

Regulus was very aware of it, he became like your shadow, never leaving your side until curfew forced him to. And he was the first to greet you every morning, waiting for you outside your house’s common room. 

At least it was like this before Christmas break. It had been a week since you come back from the break and Regulus was acting weird, at first you thought it was because he had to adapt again to Hogwarts - It took him some time to come back to his normal self ater staying in his house - but after a week of almost no contact with him you became worried. 

On your way to the dungeons you ran into Snape and Evan. You had tried to avoid them, head low and pace hurried, but it seemed like they had a special radar to spot possible victims for their tortures and mocking. They blocked your path, you were cornered against a wall as they got closer than it was safe. 

“Look who is here” Evan had teased you, his wand pointing at your face. “Regulus’ little pet”

“Why are you separated from your guardian dog?” Snape taunted you. “Has he finally realized that he’s got more important things to do rather than take care of a filthy mudblood?” 

You didn’t like a bit where the situation was going, you had tried to reach your wand, but Snape had noticed and raised his wand at you. 

“Don’t even think about it” 

“You know, Snape? I’m curious.” He hadn’t stopped looking at you. “What are you doing here, there’s no way you’re going to see Regulus right?”  

He knew exactly that it was the only reason you would ever step into the dungeons. His face turned into a look of fake pity. 

“Oh. Poor little thing, he hasn’t told you has he?” Evan was mocking you, playing with your psyche as all slytherings liked to, still his next words made your blood run cold. “He’s become the new right-hand for the dark lord. As he ought to, at the end of the day he’s a Black.” 

That’s when you started running, Snape and Evan probably tought it was enough torture to mess with your head and they let you pass them by without much hussle. 

And you ran all the way to the Slythering common room. Usually you wouldn’t dare to enter alone, but you needed to see Regulus. You didn’t want to believe Evan’s words, ‘He’s probably trying to confuse you, make you confront Regulus and cause an argument’. You were trying to convince yourself, but you couldn’t deny that the possibility was there. 

You made it to Regulus’ dorm, without even knocking you entered. Inside Regulus was laying in his bed, Barty was in one of the desks, working on homework, or a plan to destroy civilization. You didnt really care, all you could focus on was Reg. 

“Regulus” your voice didn’t feel like yourself, it was void of any emotion other than obvious tiredness from your running. 

Regulus jolted out of bed when he heard you. Barty turned around and his lips morphed into a teasing smirk. 

“Oh well, look who’s here -” “Leave, now.” Barty was cut short by Regulus’ demand, for a second you thought he was talking to you, but he was facing Barty. 

“okay, okay. No need to get aggressive…” Barty said before getting up from the chair. He walked past you, didn’t even acknowledge your presence, and closed the door behind him. 

───✥───

Regulus knew this was coming, there was no way you wouldn’t notice his absence or avoid entirely the rumors of the new deatheater in Hogwarts. He just wished it didn’t have to be this way. He coudn’t face you, from the start you and him were on opposite sides of the war, but he getting the mark was what made it definite. 

“Reg-” “What do you want?”

 Regulus’ voice was icy, not a single emotion in it. He saw you flinch at his tone. He never talked to you like that, his tone was always sweet and words picked with care whenever he referred to you. His change in demeanour angered and saddened you, he could tell. 

“Are you really asking me what I want?” your tone was colder now, you stepped closer with each word. “I’ve barely seen you for a week, and the moment I step into the dungeons the first thing I hear is that you’re the new right-hand for the dark lord. Please, tell me it’s not true”  

He could hear your voice crack and your waterline become wet with unsed tears. He knew you so well, he knew you were not going to cry, he knew you would give him the benefit of the doubt and hear him out. He knew that if he would tell you the truth, how he was forced and tortured to take the mark, you would understand, try to find a way to help and stand by his side. 

“It’s true” 

And he couldn’t allow that. If he were to let you in again, he wouldn’t be able to do what he had to do. End things, for your sake. 

“You’re lying to me, this is all a big joke, it has to be” you cried. 

He didn’t reply, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. At his silence you reached for his sleeve, pulling it up. He didn’t even flinch, and he let you stare at his bare arm. Well, not bare, as the deatheater mark was there, taking up half of his arm. 

You dropped his arm and stared at him in absolute shock. He didn’t say anything, that was angered the most, how he was not even able to say anything. 

“You didn’t want to, right?” he stayed silent “Please, say something” you implored. 

“It's my duty, it’s what 's right.” he deadpanned. 

You chuckled humorlessly “What’s right? That 's right? You’re joining a pureblood supremacist cult, there’s nothing right about it!”  

“And what about us, do I mean that little to you? Does our relationship mean anything at all to you?”  you said in a softer tone. 

“No. It was a mistake, from the start. I shouldn’t have dated a mudblood” Regulus had to make an enormous effort to not flinch at his own words. But this would make you leave, it had to. 

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry, but the heartbreak you were feeling was unlike anything you’d ever felt. Regulus had been able to make you feel special, loved for almost two years. He held your heart in his hands and treated it with care, now he was ripping it and giving back to you. 

He didn’t want to fight for your love and you were not going to beg anymore. 

“You’re right. It’s funny, really, Sirius warned me this would happen, but I was too blinded to see that he was right” bringing up Sirius was a low blow, you knew how much he meant for Regulus. But at that moment all you wanted was to make him feel the same heartbreak you were feeling. 

“At the end of the day you’re a Black.” You repeated the same words Evan had said to you on your way to the dungeons. 

Regulus just stood there and nodded. You left his room, clearly distressed and crying. Regulus’ heart was shattered beyond repair. However, this was the best option. He would rather see you leaving, crying and heartbroken for the last time in his life, than lying on the floor lifeslessly as his family had promised if he didn’t leave you and took the mark. 

At the end of the day he was really just a Black, it was the family he was born to and the family he’ll die for. 

Author's note: this one is so sad, I'm sorry Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and very appreciated. I'd love to hear what you thought about it so don't be shy!! To be part of the taglist Dm me or send me an ask <3 Taglist @feral-posts @izuoyarmin @aremuslupinsim @yourfavgay @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo 

#marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #marauders #marauders era #marauders fic #regulus x reader #regulus black #regulus black x you #regulus black x reader #regulus x you #regulus x femreader #regulus black x female reader #regulus black angst #regulus fanfiction #regulus black fanfiction

[alphacrone]

this is your reminder that 99.9% of employers care more about money than you and even if they are kind and fair now they WILL at the end of the day put profits over your well being so absolutely do not sacrifice your life for them.

#and by life i mean time really #do your job to its exact description #do not make things too difficult for your fellow workers #you can even work hard if you want to #but do not undervalue your time or your mental and physical well being #this is a mistake i made in my first job #the stress of that job triggered my (undiagnosed) crohns so bad i was hospitalized twice #and my boss asked me to work from my hospital bed #while also not giving me sick time and not paying me well #in my previous post that coworker has been working there at least 15 years #never caused any problems went above and beyond #was a fucking backbone of the company #and is getting tossed out bc management is fucking moronic #they’ll be fine they’re so great they’ll get a much better job i’m certain #and previous management loved them SO much and did try to take really good care of them to keep them from leaving #but in the end stupid financial decisions will always come before employee we’ll begin #being #so never give too much of yourself to a job and always keep your resume updates #also don’t be afraid to leave nasty reviews on yelp or glassdoor and also maybe key your boss’ car

[ikea-doona]

drives me crazy when casual employers act like they’re beholden to treat their employees badly even when they ✨don’t want to✨ esp when it’s an under-the-table type situation

like “ooh i can’t deny them work even though i’m the one cancelling on them, so i’ll bend over backwards to make sure they still do the same number of hours” …..or you could. idk. pay them their promised hours and give them the day off anyway on public holidays or if you cancel last-minute

#anyways 🤪 #like if they as a person would rather do the work then that’s fine that’s very different #but give them the option????????????? #of like… income security!!????? #it’s like how car insurance can be multiple levels y’know #bomb insurance where they won’t cover damage to your vehicle but they’ll pay for other people’s cars if you crash into them #vs comprehensive where (if eligible) they’ll cover all* costs #like. okay. they’re a casual employee and there’s no contract #but also there’s no oversight and no set minimum wage and thus no guarantee of the +25% casual loading #which is kinda the only income protection for casual employees is that they get paid a bit more #like. dude. you say you care about this person. maybe fucking pay them reliably if it’s your fault #or if they would get public holiday pay in a permanent role maybe like. idk. give it to them? #anyways #rant #you don’t even give them sick leave this is the least you can do!!!! you can fully plan for it and it’s no extra cost to you it’s literally #what you budgeted for!!!!!!

[friedroses]

.

#you guys ever just get that random urge to burst into tears over something very small #i felt stupid bc I asked a friend in a different timezone if they wanted to talk on the phone when it was like midnight there #they said they couldn’t sleep so my ass was like oh do u wanna talk then #as if that’s not the opposite of what they’re trying to do #and they very nicely in the most polite and lovely way declined bc they have work in the morning #and were very sweet about it #and i’m not upset with them at all but i just got so upset with myself #like i felt stupid and selfish to ask because i know it’s really me that wants the company and it feels like i can’t talk to anyone anymore #every friend reaches a point where they get tired of me and can’t handle it anymore so they leave #and i understand! i’m a lot. even for myself #and i don’t know how to stop being unlikeable and unloveable and just shut the fuck up for oncr becsusr i always a say too much #i can never leave well enough alone #and i cry so easily now it’s annoying #even my family members have all gotten sick of me #my mom started screaming at me the other day and basically told me that I’m annoying and she dislikes me #and i couldn’t even acknowledge her for 3 days not bc i was trying to be petty but bc i could not handle seeing her #without thinking about what she said #and she’s still fucking pissed at me for the original conversation where I was asking if we could divide the cleaning in the house equally #or at least more equally. bc everything gets so messy and cluttered and it stresses me out so much #and i feel like i’m the only one cleaning up after 3 other adults who don’t give any consideration to leaving shit everywhere #and she basically told me to shut tf up and stop trying to act like i’m her parent #as if she didn’t parentify the fuck out of me as a child and use me as a therapist and tell me to be the bigger person every time my older #sister did something fucked up to me #and she- my mom- is being hella passive aggressive now and the vibes are just so toxic i feel like i can’t breathe ar home #like i just want to sleep i don’t want to be home or even conscious #i’m so tired of making myself as tiny as I can and still being made to feel like i take up too much space #emotionally and physically #i just want it to be over #and i want to tell someone but i don’t want to burden anyone or talk too much bc it’s all negative and i don’t want them to get tired of me #i finally made some friends through school and it’s fun to be in a group of people again but i’m so scared i’m going to ruin it

[charliemwrites]

…. So Mister(s) steal your girl, huh?

Content: Unhappy Relationship, (Brief) Gaslighting, Sad Reader

Bombshells, you always thought, were supposed to making a whistling sound before landing. A high pitched warning of impending doom. Too late to escape the incoming devastation, but at least it wouldn’t come out of nowhere. There’d be some time to brace, for all the good it would do.

Maybe you watched too many movies.

Three months. That’s how long you got to enjoy the bliss of engagement before the world began to fall around you.

Your fiance came home and sat you down, his hand around yours. You thought he was breaking it off for some reason. What he did instead was worse.

In the aftermath you can only remember snippets of the one-sided conversation. Like tinnitus, an awful running in your ears left over from a dropped bomb.

Things like,

Still young, I want to explore…

How will I know you’re my forever unless I know what’s out there?

Last bit of freedom before being tied down…

If you love me and our relationship…

You love your fiance and your relationship. You don’t want to lose it just because you’re selfish. He’s still coming home to you, after all. You’re the one with the ring and all the plans for the future. So what if he wants to… explore? He’s even offering the same to you.

An open relationship, he calls it, like it’s some innovative idea.

You’ve heard of them before, never had much interest. Still don’t, honestly, but it was that or the desolution of 4 years.

You insisted on a long engagement. Your fiance promises that you two can revisit the open relationship when you’re married.

Within a week of agreeing, he’s leaves for the weekend. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going, who he’s meeting. He comes back Sunday evening smelling like someone else’s perfume with a hickey on his collarbone. When you refuse any advances, he sighs and says he “understands that this is a transition” and goes to shower.

It’s like that for six months. Weekends without him. Sometimes sending him off Friday morning and not seeing him until Monday evening. Lipstick on his collars, strange perfume invading the laundry. You start doing his clothes separately.

Six months. You spend months suffering in silence, sniffling through Saturdays and drifting through Sundays. Adjusting meal plans to cook for one.

The last straw is when you try to make plans on a holiday. You and your fiance haven’t done on a proper date in months. You want to go out, have all his attention on you, not shared with his phone.

“Ooh, sorry dear, I’ve already got plans with Malorie. Rain check, yeah? We’ll do something next week.”

You decide to go out anyway, sick of feeling sorry for yourself. Nothing fancy, just a bit of self care. You buy yourself a cute new outfit, put on a bit more makeup than usual, do your hair. Find an interesting little late night book shop. They serve wine and food and have comfy booths for people to read or talk or play board games.

The perfect place to be out but alone.

You’re debating the merits of a romance novel when a voice comes from your left.

“Love that one.”

You blink, glance up. Find a handsome man with eyes simultaneously so dark and so warm. Coals, you think. There’s a cheeky little quirk to his mouth as he nods at the novel.

“It’s good if you like will-they, won’t-they.”

You hum. “I’m more in the market for something… easier? If that makes sense.”

He hums, gives you a solemn look. “It does. Here, you might like this then.”

He plucks a book off the shelf and offers it for inspection. You feel awkward reading it the summary thoroughly, especially when you can feel his eyes on you. But you skim it, it looks promising, and a hot guy just suggested it, so…

“Read a lot of romance?” you ask curiously.

He ducks his head a bit, endearingly shy. “A bit, yeah. Call me hopeless.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, but can’t help saying. “I think it’s just romantic.”

His eyes light up. “Yeah? And what kind of books d’you usually like?”

Before you know it, you’re talking thrillers and horror novels with him. Recommending your favorite spooky novel and then following up that you always read a comedy afterwards as a palette cleanser.

You end up touring each other around the shop, talking books and authors and genres. Yet you’re somehow surprised when he asks if you’d like to sit with him. But you agree, a little thrill in your stomach that you haven’t felt since… a while.

You each buy a stack of books, then claim a booth and proceed to read none of them. He tells you his name is Kyle, that he’s in the military but on leave right now, stocking up on entertainment for flights or long spans of hurrying up and waiting.

You’ve never met a military guy before, and you trip over your curiosity. Trying not to pry but interested in what he does. He’s polite and patient, admitting there are a lot of things he can’t tell you but he’ll answer. You don’t stay on the subject long, figuring the last thing he wants to talk about it work.

He gets you back in the department of uncomfortable topics when he notices the ring on your finger. You’re quick to explain the situation, hot with shame all over again, eyes stinging despite yourself.

Instead of mocking you or just getting up and walking away, Kyle sits back looking flabbergasted.

“That’s fucking mental,” he says, “excuse me for saying.”

You burst into laughter. Haven’t told anyone any of this out of embarrassment, but hearing someone on your side is… good.

“I thought so too, but… he’s happy,” you admit.

Kyle frowns. “What about you?”

You blink, can’t look him in the eye. You know the answer but make a show of thinking about it.

“I’d… like to be again. This — the open relationship thing — seems to be working for him. So… maybe it’ll work for me too?” You shrug. “Worth a try.”

Kyle reaches across the table, a big warm hand enveloping yours. There are callouses you’re not expecting. Tantalizingly different.

“Would you like to try it with me?” he asks. “Don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But my schedule is a bit… it’s hard to keep up a traditional relationship, you know? But I like you, and I think your fiance is a knob.”

You snort, but flip your hand around, thumb brushing over his.

“Yeah…” you muse, and after saying it, a surge of confidence infuses you. “Yeah, I’d like to try this with you.”

His smile is absolutely brilliant. You won’t admit — not even to yourself for a long time — but you fall in love a little right then and there.

#thoughts™️ #cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #poly 141 #open relationship trope #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader

[tootiecakes234]

I just know you would receive “gifts” from Katsuki all the time. They’d be little things to make your life easier that you didn’t even know you needed.

You like to read at night to unwind, but sometimes it’ll be a really good book so you want to stay up reading it. The thing is you don’t wanna bother Katsuki cuz you know he has a strict bedtime. This means often times you’ll stay a little longer in the living room reading as to not bother him.

One night you’re getting ready for bed when you see a box next to your bed.

“Hey Kat, is this yours?”, you say loud enough for him to hear you in the bathroom.

He peaks his head out the door and says, “No, I ordered it for you.” And then goes back to what he was doing.

You sit on the edge of the bed and open it up. It’s a reading light with a dampener so you can adjust the brightness.

He comes dragging his little slippered feet towards his side of the bed.

“Now you can keep your ass in bed. Tired of waking up and you being asleep on the couch. I’m an old man, I can’t keep carrying you to bed.”

You look at him with a bright smile on your face.

“You know you can just say, you like me being in the bed with you while you’re sleeping. You know, because I’m your big bad protector and I make you feel safe.”

“There is no talking to you sometimes you know that?”

It’s winter time and you always have your gloves on because you HATE your fingers being cold. The only problem is of course you have to remove said gloves to use your phone when you’re out and that SUCKS.

You’re out with him one day and you’ve been texting back and forth with Mina because her and her girlfriend are in an argument and she of course comes to you about it.

You are always there for your friend so you’ve been removing and putting on your gloves over and over again until Katsuki can’t stand it anymore.

You’re outside on a bench waiting for him while he runs into some shop when he comes back out he snatches your phone out of your hand.

“What the hell? I’m usin-“ you start shouting at him.

“ give me those shitty gloves and put these on. I’m sick of watching you struggle.”

When you look down you see a pair of gloves in your favorite color.

“How are these any different from the ones I have now, Mr. Know-it-all”

He smirks at you, “These gloves are thicker than those thin ones you use AND they work on smart phones.. so yea. I do know it all.”

“Oh…. Well thanks I guess” you murmur lowly.

“Now you can talk Racoon eyes through her mental breakdowns without getting frost bite in your fingers.”he says then hands you back your phone. “She deserve better than that idiot anyways. Don’t why she keeps putting up with it.”

Katsuki is leaving for a mission today and you’ve been so gloomy. He gonna be gone at least 3 days, maybe even the whole week.

You’re been wrapped around him like ivy since you woke up this morning.

“Listen woman, I have to go. You do this every time.”he says with his arms wrapped around you waist pulling you even more flush against him.

“You should clone yourself or something. Who am I gonna cuddle with now?? And who is gonna cook for me?? I’ll die of starvation before you get back. Is that what you want. To come home to a dead girlfriend???”

“You are so damn dramatic. Cuddle with the damn plethor of plushies you have in my goddamn bed. And as far as food… you won’t starve. You’ll just eat out everyday and I’ll come back to you complaining you’ve gained weight when you look the exact same.”

“I do not.”, you start to object.

“Yes you do. Which is why I made a few meals and froze them.” He says all smug, cuz he knows that would surprise you.

“You what??” You ask looking up at him with wide eyes.

“There’s a pot pie and dumplings. I even stored a lasagna in there.” Then his phone buzzes letting him know his ride is downstairs.

“Ok I gotta go. I love you.” And he bends down to give you a deep kiss. “Be safe. Call Eiji if you need anything and try not to burn the house down before I get back.”

“I love you too. Come back to me in one piece please.”

He smiles at you, “always”

He kisses you one more time and then heads to the car.

You go directly to the fridge to see the frozen meals he left you. And not only are the packages all neatly but he’s left the heating instructions on top for you.

To say there were tears shed would be an understatement.

Katsuki Masterlist

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @justbepeace @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @blaize-hewwo @sweetblueworm @tippy-toes @superlegend216

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list in the comments💕

#imagine #bakugou x reader #mha fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou drabble #drabble #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugo headcanons #fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha katsuki #bakugo katuski #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #katsukibakugou #katsuki bakugou #katsuki #bnha bakugou #kacchan bakugou #bakugo

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Under the Mistletoe || OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x bff!fem!reader Summary: Sick of his friends pining for each other but two stupid to realise it was mutual, Logan sets about making sure they both get their Christmas wish. Warnings: pining, angst, fluff WC: 2.2k

“Hold up, let me find his spare key,” Logan said as he balanced his box on top of the one you already carried.

“Just use mine,” you said as you carefully turned. “Back pocket, left. Other left, dude.”

“My bad.” Logan grabbed the keychain and tried the ones that weren’t your car or letterbox keys. “He gave you a key?”

“Just so I can water the plants while he’s away, and make sure the stove is turned off.”

Logan laughed, turning the right key and opening the door. “He doesn’t even cook.”

You shrugged and followed him into Oscar’s house. “Doesn’t stop him thinking he’s left it on as soon as he’s at the airport.”

It was like walking into your own apartment, there was a home comfort to hanging your keys on the hook that had your initials and hanging your coat on the rack. Picking your box up again, you followed Logan to the kitchen and deposited it on the bench before grabbing two glasses and pouring you both a much deserved drink.

“This is why people don’t believe you are ‘just friends’,” Logan stated, chuckling when you rolled your eyes at him and continued to help yourself to the snacks Oscar kept stocked for you.

“Just shut up and hang the decorations before I overlook your usefulness.”

Logan returned to his box, unpacking the tinsel and bunting that you had bought. “At least you didn’t deny it this time.”

“We are definitely just friends, Lo.” You looked down at the crisp packet and muttered under your breath, “I’m not his type anyway.”

You didn’t notice Logan pause, but you did look up when he shoved his handful back in the box. “What?”

“What?” you echoed.

“What did you say?”

“We are just friends.”

“No, after that.” He leaned back against the kitchen benchtop and crossed his arms. “How do you know you’re not his type?”

“Because we are friends, we talk about these things,” you said with a shrug. “Can we not talk about this right now? He’s going to be home in a few hours.”

“We have time,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “What makes you think you’re not his type?”

You huffed in annoyance and grabbed the decorations yourself, taking them to the living room since Logan was going to be no help. “Because I’m not, okay. He likes funny girls. He wants someone he can have a laugh with to take his mind off work when he gets home. And pretty too, actually he said ‘beautiful’.”

“Okay…” Logan stared at you until you grew uncomfortable.

“And he's surrounded by models at every event.”

“So why isn’t he dating one of them then?”

“Because his standards are obviously high if they aren’t pretty enough for him. I don’t stand a chance.”

Logan shook his head and groaned. “Have you told him that you love him?”

“Of course I have, I tell him all the time.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You gave him a look that warned him not to ask another stupid question. “I’m not going to risk our friendship when my relationships never end well. I’d rather be his friend forever, than an ex I never see again.”

“God, you are both so stupid.” Logan brushed you aside as you tried to jump and reach the hooks high up the wall. “Give me that before you hurt yourself.”

You watched on as he hung the tinsel around the room with minimal guidance needed and deemed it safe enough to leave him in charge. Oscar was fairly tidy, compared to the other men you know, but his pet hate was making his bed. He would always leave it unmade claiming he was only going to make it messy again that night.

You went upstairs and made the bed before seeing the laundry basket was overflowing. He mustn’t have had time to do it between his trip to Baku, the McLaren Factory and then his short trip home to Melbourne. That was why you were in his house, setting it up for another Christmas he would miss with his family. You didn’t want him to feel alone so you were bringing Australia to him.

You lost track of time when you found his whites mixed in with the colours and you tutted to yourself as you separated them to soak in the sink.

“You don’t have to do that,” Oscar said when he found you in his laundry, both the dryer and the washing machine working as hard as you.

“Hey, you’re home!” You dropped the clothes you were folding and threw your arms around him. His tired chuckle made your heartbeat a little fast as he embraced you back and buried his face in your neck. “How’s mum and dad? And your sisters? Did they like the presents?”

His head grew heavier as he leaned against you and nodded. “Of course they did, you always know what they want.”

“Not me, you,” you corrected as you brushed a hand over his messy hair. “You got them remember.”

Oscar pulled back with a shy smile. “I think everyone knows you are the mastermind. I would have just given them a gift card.”

You laughed at the truth as the dryer finished another load but Oscar took your hand and towed you out of the laundry. “I’ll do it later,” he stated. “Logan’s already got the tree up but there’s one thing missing.”

Your jaw dropped as you saw the living room had been completely transformed into an Australian Christmas so Oscar would feel at home. A pine tree sat in the corner of the room, needles scattered around the base from trying to manoeuvre it into place. Like the ceiling, green and gold tinsel snaked around the tree but it was the floor that caught your eye.

“The sand was meant to be in the pool,” you laughed as you pointed to the small children’s sized blow up pool still in the box. Logan had poured the bags of golden sand around the tree and the wooden floor now resembled a tiny beach.

“You know, that makes more sense,” Logan admitted.

You bit your lip but it did little to stifle the laugh and when Oscar’s deeper laugh joined there was no holding back. The three of you collapsed laughing onto the couch to embrace the beach themed room and you kicked your shoes off to dig your toes into the sand.

“It’s so weird to imagine,” you chuckled, the snow falling outside a complete contradiction to the scene inside. The central heating had been cranked up to its hottest setting and it truly felt like summer. “Christmas is for making snowmen and having hot chocolate by the fire.”

Oscar draped his arm over the back of your cushion and stretched his legs out after his long flight. “How about next year I can take you home to experience this first hand?”

You smiled at the idea but you couldn’t make that commitment by saying yes, even if you wanted nothing more than to make it happen. “Maybe, let’s just see what the year brings. Who knows, you might want to take your girlfriend home.”

He looked at you with a frown. “I don’t have a girlfriend, yet.”

“Exactly, yet.”

“Idiots,” Logan mumbled as he got up. “I’m getting a drink. You guys want one?”

You both thanked him and as he left the room Oscar patted your knee. “Star time.”

You grinned at the fact he remembered your favourite part of setting the tree up and his hands settled on your hips when you reached it. “I can’t be bothered getting the ladder out,” he said before he picked you up. You placed the glittery star on the highest point and adjusted it a few times more than necessary until Oscar laughed and eased you down. But his hands still remained on your hips. “It’s perfect.”

Logan returned and the moment shattered as you took your drink from him and cleared your throat. “Merry Christmas, my orphan friends.”

“Thanks for the adoption,” Logan chuckled. “If I can’t spend Christmas with my family it’s nice to at least have you guys.”

“That probably sounded better in his head,” Oscar teased before raising his glass too. “But he’s right, thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Your cheeks warmed at the smile on his face and you were sure he felt it when he pressed a chaste kiss to one. A little frazzled, you tried to hide the effect he had on you and pointed to the mess on the floor. “Do you think we can build a sandcastle?”

“No, but I think we can build a snowman. Go put your coat on, I know you want to.”

You didn’t have to be told twice and Logan laughed as Oscar followed you to the backyard. “You two have fun, I like the heat more.”

Your breath misted as it hit the chilly air and you rushed to pull your gloves on, something you should have done before stepping outside.

“Here, let me,” Oscar offered, shoving his own in his pocket in the meantime. He took your woollen mittens and held them open for you before tightening the wrists and sealing the warmth that remained inside. “You look like a marshmallow.”

You bent down and started to collect the snow needed to make the first ball and narrowed your eyes at him when he joined you a moment later, his gloves already on. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” he smirked. “Marshmallows are cute.”

“Cute?” You wrinkled your nose and gently nudged him with your shoulder. “Now that’s an insult.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “To you or the marshmallow?”

“Uh, both,” you decided with a definitive nod.

“Okay, sorry,” he apologised and then bit his bottom lip as he stared at you over the growing snowball. “Marshmallows are beautiful and my favourite thing in the whole wide world. I love marshmallows.”

“Wow, weirdo, they aren’t that great.”

Logan had been about to ask if you wanted another drink but instead he closed the kitchen window. “Marshmallows, idiots.”

“Not bad for an Aussie,” you commented as you wrapped your arms around his waist and admired the finished product. “A shame you didn’t have a carrot in your fridge.”

Oscar pushed the cucumber nose in further to stop it drooping down before hugging you tighter. “Or a spare scarf, you must be freezing.” He pulled his own off one and draped it around your neck so yours could stay on the snowman. “Ready to go back in?”

You nodded reluctantly and let him go, following him into the warmth where Logan sat in the leather recliner watching Home Alone. “Nice to see you waited for the rest of us,” Oscar noted as he dropped onto the couch and pulled you down with him. 

“You know it word for word.”

“So do you.”

“I ran out of things to do,” he said with a shrug.

Everything had been seen up so you were confused by the statement. “What did you do?”

Logan didn’t answer as he tossed another handful of popcorn in his mouth before blindly pointing in your direction, but higher. You and Oscar looked up and found a small wreath hanging where a picture frame of the Albert Park F1 circuit was, woven into the greenery you spotted it - Mistletoe. 

“Dude!” “Mate!”

Logan laughed to himself and kept watching the movie. “You know the rules. Kiss or streak in the snow.”

“I don’t remember it being streaking,” Oscar commented as he turned to you.

You looked at him too, your eyes drifting down to his lips. You had spent countless daydreams imagining how they would feel against yours.

“Don’t overthink it, the rule needed changing,” Logan mumbled. “So…”

“It’s really cold outside,” you murmured as you dragged your eyes back up to meet his. 

“Way too cold,” he agreed with the smallest of nods. The air was pregnant with the pause before he exhaled and reached for you. His hand curled behind your nape and drew you closer, so slowly you weren't sure he was going to change his mind or thinking you would. If only he knew.

Your heart thumped loudly as you felt his breath on your skin and your hands found their way to his shoulders and ran along the thick muscles that climbed his neck. “Osc,” you whispered softly as you felt the warmth radiating off his lips but still they didn’t touch.

“Yeah?” he asked, the corners tugging up as he heard the need in your tone.

“Please...”

He pulled back just far enough to see the burning desire in your eyes and his thumb stroked your jawline. “Been waiting years for this.”

You couldn’t tell who moved first, but you both moved together, his mouth slanting over yours perfectly like they were made to complement each other. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you tasted the beer on his tongue when he slipped it between your parted lips with a deep moan.

Popcorn rained over your heads and you broke apart to glare at the very smug looking man responsible. “About fucking time! I love you, but you are both idiots.”

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

[verstappen-cult]

THE BOYS TAKING CARE OF YOU WHEN YOU’RE SICK | F1 GRID

★ — LANDO NORRIS (4)

after you text lando that you won’t be able to make it to your date because you’re in bed with a cold, lando doesn’t hesitate to go see you, even after you’ve warned him not to. “i don’t care if i get ill.” he has said through the phone. he feels awful seeing you so sick, and makes it his life mission to take care of you. once he’s sure you’re warm in bed, lando rushes to the kitchen to make you some tea. and stays all night taking care of you, barely sleeping just to make sure you have a good rest. the next day you feel a lot better but lando still doesn’t let you get out of bed or do anything, spoiling you and doing everything by himself because, “it’s the least i can do.” and, of course, he ends up catching a cold too.

★ — CHARLES LECLERC (16)

chales knows something is wrong when you don’t get out of bed in the morning and begins to worry when he returns home a few hours later and you are curled up on the couch with a blanket all the way up to your head. he sits next to you, wrapping his arms around you, making you rest your head on his chest. “how do you feel? what can i do for you?” but you can only groan in frustration, feeling absolutely hammered. charles gives you a kiss on the forehead before disappearing to the kitchen. he can’t cook, but makes his best effort to make you some soup, searching on the internet and even calling his mom for some advice, and then feeding you, not letting you do anything by yourself.

★ — OSCAR PIASTRI (81)

oscar does everything he can to make you feel good and comfortable. he sits in a chair next to your bed and reads your favorite book aloud and holding your hand all the time because he knows you get clingy when you’re sick. he also sets an alarm so you don’t forget to take your medicine, whispering “there you go, my sweet girl. you’re doing so good.” while giving you water and stroking your hair with his free hand. oscar doesn’t leave your side until you are fast asleep, and even when you’re apart he tries to be as present as he can.

★ — MAX VERSTAPPEN (33/1)

max goes crazy, it’s hurts him seeing you like that. he calls every doctor in monaco to get them to see you and buys everything they tell him you need. he can’t get sick, so max keeps his distance “i just want to get under the covers and hug you until you feel better.” he complains, hands itching to touch you but you won’t let him. when he sees that your favorite water is running out and there aren’t anymore tissues, he makes a quick trip to do the shopping and ends up buying a lot more things than necessary. he doesn’t leave without a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers that then places in your nightstand when you’re sleeping.

★ — ALEX ALBON (23)

alex finds out you are sick only thanks to your mom who tells him, and he immediately shows up at your door. he’s angry, a well-prepared speech on the tip of his tongue, but once he sees how bad you’re feeling, alex forgets all about his anger. he guides you with a hand on your shoulder back to your bedroom and stays with you all day even if he doesn’t know what to do. alex panics when you run to the bathroom to throw up, but follows you and strokes your hair through it, words of affection leaving his mouth. “what you want to do? it will make you feel better.” so you two end up cuddling in bed after doing your skincare, watching your favorite movie.

★ — DANIEL RICCIARDO (3)

daniel doesn’t let anyone come near you or disturb you because “she needs to rest and if i see anyone bothering her you’re out of the house.” he takes care of you but he also lets you know how upset he is that you are sick, listing all of the times he told you to be careful and take care of yourself. daniel constantly checks your temperature to ensure you are okay, leaving kisses all over your face and making you giggle because that’s the only way to tell, according to him. to help you sleep he brings out his guitar and signs you a lullaby until you stop cringing and, eventually, fall asleep.

★ — MICK SCHUMACHER (47)

mick treats you as if you’re made out of glass and are going to break at any moment. he’s more scared than worried and you have to assure him that you are going to be okay, that it’s just a simple cold. he hugs you like you’re going to disappear whispering “i wish i was the one sick and not you.” which makes you feel so loved. he stays glued to your side until you are no longer sick, and even then he stills checks with you that everything is okay.

© VERSTAPPEN-CULT ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱ #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #f1 grid x reader #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc fluff #alex albon x reader #charles leclerc imagine #mick schumacher x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #max verstappen fluff #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris fluff

[estrellami-1]

Falling

(ao3 link)

Dedicated to @madigoround, my one constant Steddie cheerleader. I hope you like it! ❤️

It’s said if you truly want to get to know someone, tell them no. Watch how they act when they’re angry, when they’re sick, when they’re wrecked by grief.

The truth is, Eddie thinks, the way to truly get to know someone is to watch them when they think they’re not being watched.

So, Eddie watches people. He watches Tommy Hagan ascend the ranks of social hierarchy, climbing closer and closer to the top of the totem pole until he reaches the zenith and finds himself stuck with fake friends and a fake life. He’s mean, in the way that Eddie knows someone is mean to him and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Eddie leaves him alone, ignores him best he can, and hopes Tommy will have the dignity to do the same.

He watches Carol Perkins, faux-model that she is, use her body like a weapon, like a credit card. He knows that she knows that way only heartbreak lies. No one moves to stop her. Eddie knows she’s hurtling towards self-destruction. He knows she’s ignored at home.

He watches Steve Harrington. His ascent to popularity, then in the blink of an eye, his fall. How easily he shrugs off the mantle of King Steve, starts carting around middle schoolers.

How he flinches at loud sounds, abrupt movements, flickering lights.

Steve Harrington intrigues Eddie, is the thing. And Eddie’s never been the type to deny his intrigues. So he studies the fallen king more.

Some things make sense, after spring break. Some things don’t.

Steve has three smiles: the real one, the one everybody thinks is real, and the fake customer service one. He hardly ever uses the first. He’ll use the second a lot. The kids are dipshits, brash in the way only a teenager can be, unaware and uncaring of the effect their words have. Specifically, the effect their words have on Steve.

When they make jokes about his intelligence, Steve will force on a little half-smile, an unaffected air, even as his shoulders slump inward and his chin tips down.

Eddie sees it. He also sees what Steve looks like, eyes wide and wild, grinning and gesturing freely, as he discusses basketball with Lucas or football with Uncle Wayne. Eddie understands the stats he somehow manages to keep track of (even Eddie has notebooks for all his character sheets and all the math everything requires. He’s forgotten, more than once, how he’d done something for a past campaign, and digs through his notebooks until he finds it. But Steve pulls the numbers out of thin air, hardly even pausing as he finds them in his mental filing cabinet, and Eddie is impressed, to say the least). He knows Steve’s smart, even if it’s in a different way than the kids are used to.

He makes a point to mention it. Steve’s over watching the game with Wayne, and Eddie whistles as he listens in to their conversation from the kitchen where he’s making lunch. “That’s some memory,” he says, shaking his head. “I know I couldn’t keep all that straight.”

Steve blinks at him. “What, like all your D&D people?”

“Characters. You don’t want to see the amount of notebooks I have, trying to keep everything straight, and it still ends up all going to hell when I can’t find something.” He raises a challenging brow, daring Steve to argue.

Steve just laughs and leans back into the couch. “Whatever, man, I still think it’s impressive. I’ve been watching for years, it just kinda makes sense that I’d remember a few facts.”

“A few?” Eddie’s eyes light up. “Wayne, quiz him.”

Wayne snorts. “What’m I, your errand boy?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, just to be contrary. He grins at the snicker it pulls from Steve. “Please, Wayne?”

Wayne narrows his eyes at Eddie, then softens his gaze when he moves it over to Steve. “You up for it?”

Steve chuckles. “Sure, I guess. It’d be nice to see how much I actually know.”

For the next few minutes, Wayne gives a name and within a few seconds, Steve’s answered with stats about that person.

Eddie, ever the competitive soul, ends up invested, grinning and high-fiving Steve when Wayne runs out of names. “Knew it,” he said, happily noting the blush making its home on Steve’s cheeks.

“Ha,” Eddie jokes later, ribbing Dustin because he can. “Kiddo, that was worse than-” he thinks for a few seconds, then sighs and raises his voice. “Steve? Who was the guy who did the thing you and Wayne were mad about?”

Dustin judges him with his eyebrows. “Even if Steve had any idea what you’re saying, what makes you think he’d know-”

“Phil Simms,” Steve called back from the kitchen. “Great player, actually, just wrong team.”

Eddie hummed, enjoying the shocked look on Dustin’s face. “Nah, not quite doing it. Who’s the losingest team?”

Losingest team, Dustin mouths, mocking. Eddie notes that he doesn’t actually say anything this time, though.

“Depends. Jets started at ten to one, then lost their final five games. But the Giants beat the Redskins 17 to zero. They also beat the 49ers 49—heh—to three, but that was earlier in the season, and no one expected San Francisco to win anyways.” He walks out of the kitchen, wiping his hands with a towel, a thoughtful look on his face. “Does any of that help?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie says, even though he has zero idea what Steve actually said. He’s staring, smug grin firmly affixed to his face, at Dustin.

Lucas, over on the couch, sits up straight and stares at Steve. “Did you see Montana’s comeback?”

Steve grins. “Fuckin’ wild, man, but I kinda hate Walsh for letting him. Like, I’ve been there, right? And that was…” he shakes his head. “Not good. Yeah, it’s been weeks, whatever, but an injury like that?” Steve crosses his arms, shakes his head.

Eddie stares, enraptured. Obsessed. Maybe, possibly, falling.

When the kids make jokes about Steve’s appearance, he’ll put a hand to the back of his neck and rub, force down the blush, avoid eye contact.

Eddie knows Steve’s not shy. So he doesn’t understand why Steve reacts like that until one day he compliments Steve. It’s a simple little line, you have gold in your hair, but Steve beams. Eddie’s left wondering about the difference, realizes there’s a certain type of compliment Steve’s received all his life, that probably ended up less than welcome at some point.

So Eddie makes it his life’s mission to make Steve beam the way he had the first time.

One time they’re out lounging by the pool while the kids splash around, beers in hand, talking about everything and nothing. Steve tips his head back to take a drink and Eddie realizes something. He leans forward to get a better look. “Your eyes are hazel,” he says delightedly, grinning at the flush rapidly showing on Steve’s cheeks.

Steve looks like he’d very much like to take a page out of Eddie’s book and hide behind his hair in that moment. He hides behind his beer instead, takes another sip as he waits for his face to get back under control. “Are they?” He asks, like he doesn’t know. He’s such a little shit. Eddie’s obsessed.

Another time, Eddie breaks in (is it breaking in if everyone and their mother knows where Steve puts the spare key?) and starts making breakfast while Steve’s out on a run. He almost swallows his tongue when Steve walks back in, sweaty and flushed, wearing shorts that God Himself must have sculpted just for Steve.

Instead of saying that, Eddie adopts an unaffected face and raises a brow. “Pretty sure there’s a fine for public indecency, sweetheart, and those shorts break about eight of those rules. ‘Course, no one’s gonna say anything when they’re on you.”

Steve laughs, light and happy as he accepts the water Eddie hands him. “And why’s that?”

“Because I think you single-handedly caused every gay crisis on the police force.”

Steve laughs hard enough he snorts, and Eddie’s immediately hellbent on hearing that sound again. “That so?” He asks, then pauses. “Wait, what the fuck are you doing in my kitchen?”

Eddie shrugs, like it should be obvious. “Making breakfast. I wanted pancakes.”

“And you couldn’t make them at your place?”

Eddie just shrugs, a smile playing on his lips. Steve badly hides his grin as he shakes his head and turns around, citing a need for a shower as he heads upstairs. “Don’t burn the house down!”

“Betrayal!” Eddie yells back, grinning when Steve cackles again.

Eddie stares as Steve walks upstairs, enraptured. Obsessed. Maybe, probably, falling.

Eddie studies Steve. Studies him and watches him more and more. His mannerisms, his interactions with others. And he realizes something very interesting: Steve’s always the one to reach out.

He tugs Dustin into a teasing headlock, rubs his knuckles over the top of his head. Flings his arm over Lucas’s shoulders, pokes at Mike until he responds, bumps Will’s elbow with his own. Brushes his fingers over Max’s arm, pulls El into a hug. Robin is the only person who consistently pulls Steve into a hug, and even so, most of the time it’s teasing; a quick, sharp thing, jerky movements and practically pushing him away when she’s done.

So Eddie starts. Brushes his hand across Steve’s shoulders as he’s walking by. Poking at Steve’s cheeks to get a reaction. Quick, tight hugs, at first.

Or… that was the plan. The first time he pulls Steve into a hug, they’re alone, because Eddie does not want to have to deal with Dustin and his dramatics in that moment. So Eddie pulls Steve in, arms flung around him and squeezing in a half-joking manner, and Steve practically melts.

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie mutters, stumbling a little. “You good, Stevie?”

Steve pulls back, a blush making its way across his cheeks. “Yeah. Sorry. It- it won’t happen again.”

Eddie frowns. “How the fuck is that what you got from it?”

Steve shrugs. “I know I can be… well, Nancy called it clingy, and I’ve had a few girlfriends in the past who called it clingy, and if it looks like a rose and smells like a rose, then…”

“Shit, Steve, no, that’s not- what the fuck were your girlfriends on? Why would they call that clingy? That’s not- Christ, Steve, if that’s clingy, sign me up. Seriously. Just warn me next time, we don’t all have the body of a Greek god, we can’t all carry our somewhat-acquaintances out of hell.” He grins at Steve, a half-thing that grows when Steve tentatively grins back.

“Body of a Greek god?”

“Oh, don’t go fishing for compliments, I know you, you’re not that shallow.” He rolls his eyes, smiles. Tentatively places his hands on Steve’s arms, just above his wrists. “You hear of something called touch-starved?”

Steve cautiously looks him in the eye. “I can guess,” he finally says, and Eddie pulls him into another hug.

This one lasts for something close to a minute, and Eddie ignores it when Steve takes a step back and molds his face back into shape. “Anytime,” he says quietly, like a promise. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Steve agrees.

It happens again a week later.

Everyone’s over for Hellfire. Steve was in the kitchen, had been there practically since everyone had trickled in.

There’s a quiet clatter, an even quieter shit, then a pause before Steve heaves a sigh. “Eddie?”

Eddie furrows his brows in concern, motions for everyone to stay where they are, then makes his way into the kitchen, seeing Steve gripping the edge of the sink. “Steve?”

“I’ve been having a shit day,” he starts. “If… if you meant what you said. Last time?”

“Anytime,” Eddie swears. “Hey, Stevie, c’mon, the sink’s not going anywhere, let’s let go, yeah? Wanna stay down here or go upstairs?”

Steve makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “Your game-”

“Will be there later,” Eddie finishes. “Here or upstairs?” Steve shakes his head, a sharp movement, and Eddie recognizes it. “Want me to pick?”

“Please.”

“Upstairs. Can you do it yourself?”

Steve makes another guttural noise, pulls away from the sink, and marches upstairs.

Eddie follows. All the way upstairs, into Steve’s room, pausing to close and lock the door. “We’re safe,” he says quietly, and opens his arms. “Stevie?”

Steve trembles as he allows himself to be hugged, hands fisting in the back of Eddie’s shirt, head guided to the junction of Eddie’s neck and shoulder.

Eddie pets a solid hand down Steve’s back, squeezing at his waist for a moment before bringing it up again, just below his neck. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “We’re all okay, we’re all safe. What’re you seeing, Stevie?”

Steve takes a breath. It only stutters a little. “Had a dream ‘bout you last night,” he admits. “Kinda fucked me over.”

Eddie’s heart clenches. “I’m here,” he promises, and guides them onto the bed. “D’you want to be on top or bottom?”

He feels Steve’s brows scrunch against his shoulder. “What?”

“Some people need the pressure of someone on them. It’s grounding. For some, it’s too much.”

“Oh,” Steve mutters. “You on top.”

Eddie bites his tongue on the joke that wants to come out. “M’kay, c’mon, then, still not the one with the body of a Greek god.”

He feels Steve’s tentative smile as they roll over, a breath huffed into his chest. “Always liked Apollo.”

“God of the sun,” Eddie agrees. “Suits you.” He gets his arms out from under Steve, puts them on his shoulders. “This work?”

Steve hums. His eyes are shut. “Didn’t wanna take you from your game. Sorry.”

“And I told you it’ll be there later. If you need something, I want to help you get it. Simple as that.”

Steve sighs, tips his head to the side. His chin brushes the back of Eddie’s hand, and he does it again. “This works.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, watching Steve brush his chin over the back of his hand. “If there’s something you want, I need you to ask for it. I can’t read your mind.” Steve’s brows furrow as his eyes open, and Eddie clicks his tongue. “Close your eyes.” They drop shut again, and he nudges the back of his hand a little harder against Steve’s chin. “What do you want?”

Steve sighs again, gathering courage. “Want you to play with my hair.”

Eddie’s heart skips a beat. He brushes his hand up, traces the line of Steve’s silhouette, up his chin, his nose, around his eye. Drags the backs of his fingers across his forehead, surreptitiously checking for a fever. Nothing. Steve relaxes back into the pillows.

Eddie gets a hand in Steve’s hair and tugs gently, releasing to scrape his fingertips over Steve’s scalp. Revels in the hum Steve lets out. “Sunshine boy,” he murmurs. “Who takes care of you?”

“Sunshine boy?”

Eddie smiles softly, even though Steve’s eyes are still closed. “Gold hair, gold eyes. My own personal Apollo.”

Steve smiles. “You’re Dionysus.”

“Mm. God of drunken joy and madness.”

“And theater.”

“Oh, yes, how could I ever forget one of the billion things one of the billion gods was known for.”

Steve snorts. “Thank you,” he murmurs, hands brushing Eddie’s waist. “I shouldn’t need this. Any of it.”

Eddie cards his hand through Steve’s hair again. “But you do.”

“But I do,” Steve agrees with a sigh. “And you just… you’re selfless.”

“Only when it comes to you.”

Steve snorts. “You’re full of shit.”

“Yup. Selfless and full of shit. Sounds about right.”

“Oh my god,” Steve laughs, cracking open an eye to look at him. They both still, caught in each other’s gaze, realizing just how close they are to each other.

Slowly, so slowly, Steve looks away. “Go back to your game,” he whispers. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Okay,” Eddie responds at the same volume, and slowly gets up. He lifts his hand off the doorknob when Steve calls his name. “Yeah?”

“Stay? After?”

“Sunshine boy,” he says again, just to get that smile. “Yeah, Stevie. I’ll stay after.”

After comes sooner than either of them expect, but Dustin got sloppy, and what’s the point of one-shots if not to throw them to the wind when it all goes to shit, so there’s a lot of good-natured ribbing and thoughtless decisions and uncaring dice rolls before it ends and everyone’s packing up.

Dustin’s mom comes to pick up everyone who didn’t drive there, because she’s an angel of a woman, and Eddie makes excuses for why he’s staying until finally he doesn’t have to, it’s just him and Steve, and Steve’s looking at him with the softest smile and something that looks like adoration shining in his eyes.

Eddie opens his mouth to start, then shuts it with a shake of his head. “C’mon,” he says finally. “Let’s go sit on the couch.”

Eddie sits first, and Steve stands, hands wringing one another, until Eddie leans forward, grabs them, and gently guides him to sit next to Eddie. “There.” He holds one of Steve’s hands in his. “Do you want to start, or should I?”

Steve worries his lip. “Do we need to talk about it? If we both know what we’re saying?”

Eddie grins. “So if I were to start talking about buying little party hats for raccoons…”

Steve snorts. “Okay, you ass, point taken.” His smile falls. “You’ve been… really nice to me, these past few months. And that’s not why, not at all, but it doesn’t exactly hurt either. I just…” he shakes his head. “Why me?”

“Why you what? Why am I nice to you? Why have I been taking care of you? Why-” the question sticks in his throat for half a second. “Why do I like you?”

Steve smiles, bashful, and looks down at their intertwined hands. “All of the above, basically.”

Eddie taps the back of Steve’s hand thoughtfully. They both watch the movement. “Because you’re worth it,” he says simply. “Because no one else does it. No one else sees what you do for them. No one else cares. I do. I don’t think I was given a choice, honestly, you looked at me and I was fuckin’ gone. And I’m gonna keep doing this until you believe me. Until you believe that you deserve to take up space, to exist, to have wants and opinions and preferences.”

“It might take a while.”

“I’ll be right here.”

“I might never fully believe it.”

“I’ll be here forever.” He pulls their intertwined hands up to press a kiss to the back of Steve’s.

“It sounds like a lot of boring work.” His voice is high, thready. There are tears in his eyes that fall when he blinks.

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

Watery eyes narrow at him. “Did you just quote a fucking Greek tragedy at me?”

“Uh. Maybe?”

Steve snorts, shakes his head, and leans in to lay his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s old news, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to the top of Steve’s head, feels his heart skip a beat when Steve responds by nuzzling his throat. “Is that it, then? We’re done talking?”

Steve sighs and tilts his head up so they can look at each other. “I like you too,” he says quietly. “Just… for the record. And I want this. And…” he bites his lip, then just as quickly releases it. “I wanna kiss you. Um. If that’s alright.”

“Sunshine boy,” Eddie murmurs. “Of course that’s alright. Get up here.” He pulls as Steve pushes up, meaning Steve overbalances and sprawls across Eddie’s lap. They stare, wide-eyed, at each other for a beat before bursting into laughter.

“Okay?” Eddie checks, even as Steve rights himself and scrambles the rest of the way onto Eddie’s lap, grinning as he plays with the hair at the nape of Eddie’s neck.

“Perfect.” His grin grows and a tiny little giggle slips out, like he’s so happy his body just can’t contain it all anymore. “I’m gonna kiss you.”

It’s less a warning, more an explanation for why he’s so happy, and it has Eddie’s heart full to bursting in his chest as he slips his hands just under the hem of Steve’s shirt to rest them directly on his waist. “You are,” he agrees. He almost jokes—not if I kiss you first—but knows Steve needs this. “Take your time,” he says instead, even though he feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest, like he’s about to vibrate out of his own skin. His hands are steady, though, as are his eyes when he looks into Steve’s.

“Is it weird that I’m nervous?” He’s whispering now, so Eddie drops his voice to match.

“It’s a big thing. You’re allowed to be nervous. Is there any way I could help?”

Steve scrunches his nose up, then moves to rest their foreheads together. “Um. Close your eyes? Maybe?”

Eddie’s eyes immediately shut. “Take your time,” he promises. “Or we can wait. There’s no shame. I won’t be upset.”

“Yeah, but I will,” Steve jokes, and Eddie chuckles.

“There’s a movie,” he starts. “An old silent film that Wayne likes. I watched it with him because he said something about vamp, so of course my mind went to vampire. It wasn’t, to my dismay, but there’s a line. A seductress bewitches men by getting them to kiss her. One man’s about to kill her, like gun-to-the-head about to kill her, and she says kiss me, my fool.”

He can practically feel Steve’s grin. He can definitely hear it. “Which one am I?”

“Oh, definitely the seductress, have you seen yourself, sunshine? I’m the fool in this scenario. Or any scenario, really.”

Steve hums. “Dionysus.”

“Shut up.” He’s laughing, though, grinning at Steve’s giggle, then freezes when Steve’s lips land on the corner of his. “Oh,” he whispers when Steve pulls away.

Steve laughs softly, puts a thumb at the corner of one of Eddie’s eyes. “You can open your eyes.” He’s whispering again, and Eddie looks to see Steve staring at him, a small, wondering smile on his lips.

“Heya, sunshine,” he whispers, almost choking on the amount of emotions he feels.

“Hi.” He pauses, fidgets. “Can I kiss you for real?”

“Yeah. You want me to close my eyes?”

Steve shakes his head. “Just… kiss back.”

Eddie grins, wide and in love. “I was planning on it.”

Steve grins back, just as wide and just as happy. “Shut up.”

“And if I said make me…”

Steve giggles. “I might just have to,” he says before finally leaning in, slotting their lips together in a slow, sweet kiss.

He tastes like the pizza they’d been eating and the beer they’d been drinking, and underneath that is something so Steve, and Eddie wants to spend the rest of forever discovering that taste. When they pull apart, his eyes open—when had he closed them?—and land on Steve, who’s also in the process of opening his eyes. “Wow,” he murmurs, and Steve giggles as he rests their foreheads together again.

“Just about.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Steve whispers, so Eddie wastes no time in sealing their lips together again. It’s still soft and slow and sweet, and Eddie focuses on making Steve relax against him. He cards a hand through Steve’s hair, squeezes a little at the nape of his neck, runs it down his back, down his side, to knead at his hips. In response, Steve hums into the kiss, shifting a little to let more of his weight rest on Eddie’s lap. Eddie does it again and again, thrilled at the feeling of Steve finally relaxing fully onto him. They both pull away, lips wine-dark and tender, and Steve smiles, eyes still closed, as Eddie runs his hand through his hair one more time. “Keep that up and I’m gonna fall asleep,” he murmurs, and Eddie’s heart skips a beat at the trust in his voice.

“Maybe that’s my plan,” he answers. “I seduced you just to get you to take better care of yourself.”

Steve’s smile widens. “That’s the only reason?”

“Obviously,” Eddie teases. “Well, that and the fact that I’m ridiculously into you, but that seems like a separate thing.”

“Right,” Steve agrees, giggling. He opens his eyes and presses a quick peck to Eddie’s nose. “I’m kinda ridiculously into you, too.”

“Well,” Eddie says, because out of everything, of course this would be what takes his words away. “Good.”

“Good,” Steve agrees, laying his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie leans back into the couch, adjusting his hold on Steve so he’s as comfortable as possible. “G’night,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss over Steve’s temple.

He can feel Steve’s lips lift into a smile. “Night, Eds.” He presses a kiss to Eddie’s neck, and Eddie smiles as he tilts his head back into the couch.

He stares up at the ceiling, enraptured. Obsessed. Maybe, definitely, falling.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #touch starved steve harrington #I don’t think I’ll ever write him another way honestly #stranger things #steddie fic #st fic #Eddie has the patience of a saint #(mostly he’s just in love) #Steve is struggling #honestly idk how else to tag this #starambles

[imbored1201]

Dumb Decisions

Happy birthday to my homie @sleekswosobession

Pairing: Barcelona Femeni x Reader (Sick fic)

Word Count: 1.1k

You cursed in your head as you were woken up by Alexia pulling your blankets off you. “Get up,” she said, grabbing your bag and throwing it on your bed to get you started. It took you a while to actually process what was going on, but all you knew was that your head hurt really bad and you felt like you were about to throw up. 

You were sick. You spent the next 10 minutes questioning if you should tell Alexia or not. 

You told yourself it was dumb to train and that you should tell Alexia, but there was the other part of you that didn’t care and just wanted to train. 

The second part won. You were able to take medicine without Alexia noticing before you left for training, but the nausea really hit you when you walked into the locker room. 

The loud conversations weren't helping with the headache. Especially with Patri blasting her music and running around poking everyone to get them excited for this very early training. 

“Aw, what’s wrong?” Frido cooed and pinched your cheek when she noticed your mood. “I'm just not feeling it today." She frowned and patted your head before leaving you alone. 

————

“Y/N, come here." You froze hearing Jonatans voice, quickly making your way to him. “Si?” You tried your best to make yourself look somewhat presentable, but you were barely able to stand straight at this point, just wanting to curl up on the grass and cry. 

“Go see the medics,” you said, giving him an odd look. “Why? I don’t feel any discomfort.” 

“You look pale; you're off your game today; even right now, you're struggling to even catch your breath. Get checked out.”

He waved you off, leaving you no room to argue back. You simply huffed and walked back to the lockers. 

————

You shuffled into the room, looking in between them. They stared back at you, inspecting you to see what was wrong. “Sit,” one of them said. “She’s all yours,” the other one said, and she walked out to go back onto the field to monitor. 

“Symptoms?” “I don’t feel anything,” she let out a sigh. “Do I have to get Alexia?” You looked at her, terrified. “No” 

“You know, when players are sick, they usually stay home,” you heard her mutter. You scowled, “I’m not sick; just tell Jonatan I’m fine.” You were silenced by her glare. 

“Do you want me to lose my job?” You quickly shook your head, thinking of any other ways to get out of this situation. 

“Can I at least change out of these clothes? I feel nasty.” She just nodded, desperately wanting to get a tiny break from you. 

————

There were 10 minutes left of practice, so you knew she was going to notice; you just hoped it was towards the last 5 minutes. 

“Here comes trouble." Cata commented as she watched you jog back to Jona to tell him you were "fine.”. 

He did look a bit worried, but he decided to just let you off and motioned for you to go on a team for a scrimmage. 

You didn’t know why, but you were tired before it even started. “You haven’t done anything,” Patri commented when she noticed how you were struggling to even stand. This drew the attention of everyone. 

“I need a moment," you said as you sat down, regretting even coming back on the pitch. 

“You okay?” Ingrid put a hand on your back, watching as you struggled to catch your breath. "Fine,” you wheezed out. 

After a couple more minutes, you finally recovered. “Why is everyone staring at me?” You whined to Ingrid, and everyone quickly went back to doing their drill. “Let's get you some water.” 

“Y/N!” You froze hearing the medic, everyone watched shocked as she started sprinting towards you. “Ah shit” as much as you wanted to run away, you just didn’t have any energy left and just sat on the grass, accepting your fate. 

“What is going on?!” Jona asked, frustrated; training had been interrupted way too much today, and he was sick of it. “She’s sick, and she lied to me,” Jona sighed and waved Alexia over. 

“Never a moment of peace with you around,” Alexia muttered, dragging you off the pitch. You made sure to stick your tongue out at the medic. 

————

“Sit down,” Alexia said sternly, for once you actually listened to her. “What are you feeling?” You were about to speak until she cut you off. “And be honest, no lies,” you rubbed your nose. 

“I’m not feeling good,” you admitted, and you watched as Irene entered the room again. Alexia held back a sarcastic comment, looking at her. Irene took that as a sign to take over and gently pushed Ale away to cool down. 

“Okay, let's do this quickly so we can get you home.'' You rubbed your eyes and nodded at her words. You watched as everyone entered the locker room again and took the water from Salma. 

“This is probably the dumbest thing you’ve done." You glared at Salma and watched as Patri and Pina laughed at you. “Alexia, tell them to leave me alone.” 

One look from Alexia, and they quickly went back to doing whatever they were before. 

————

Alexia was jealous watching as you listened to everything Irene told you to do. You even took the medicine without complaining. 

“Now all you need is rest; you’ll be better soon." Irene reassured you as she brushed your hair. 

"Gracias, Irene, you should get home to your family; I can take it from here." All Ale got was a look. “Please don’t go all captain on her, not until she fully feels better.” 

“That’s difficult for her,” you whispered, and with one last hug, Irene was out the door. Now it was just you and Alexia. 

“You're an idiot." You looked upset by that statement, making Alexia regret it. “Movie?” “My choice?” “You always choose.” That was true; no matter how many times Alexia told you she was going to choose the movie, it always ended up with you choosing. 

————

“You need to tell me when you're sick, Bebe." You tested your head on Alexia’s shoulder as you scrolled through to find a good movie. 

“Needed to train." “No, the number one thing you need to worry about is your health.” 

“Yes Ale” She wrapped a blanket over you and focused on the movie you chose.

#woso x reader #woso #barcelona femeni #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni x reader

[bigfatbimbo]

Lute and Sinner!Fem!Reader

a/n — Taking an Idea I had from a request and running with it because I completely twisted it into something else in my head.

Summary — Lute has a very homoerotic rivalry with fem!sinner!reader in the form of vague headcanons and loose storylines.

Warnings — unbareable sapphic tension, mention of injuries and blood

Let’s start off with the obvious; Lute has no idea how to process feelings for the reader.

I mean you’re literally a demon from hell, there should be nothing appealing about you in the slightest.

Unfortunately for Lute, she found absolutely everything appealing about you and this pisses her off to an insane amount.

She would spend hours trying to justify it in her head only for every excuse to fall flat. If she wasn’t already practically pulling her hair out over this, now she is.

She finds herself looking forward to the next extermination more and more. The scary part was that the reason wasn’t just because of the chance to slaughter vile demons.

She wanted to see you. 

So what does every lesbian in denial do when they have complicated feelings for someone they shouldn’t? Start a rivalry.

Every extermination she seeks you out and fights you specifically

“You, vile demon! Come out here and face me!” She would absolutely make a scene as she is incredibly intense.

I feel like you would surprise her with being able to keep up with her fighting skills, or at least almost.

Like I feel like she would go easy on you at first. After all, she just wants your attention, she doesn’t actually want to kill you.

After a little bit she would actually have to start really trying in order to not actually lose.

Of course that would piss her off and turn her on at the same time, leaving her incredibly aggravated.

Maybe after a couple exterminations you would be already used to Lute and her shenanigans and you would play along.

“Hey, sweetheart, how’s heaven treating you these days?” You would tease while dodging her sharp spear.

“Don’t call me sweetheart, you demon scum!” She would hiss back at you, trying to hide her blush by violently jabbing her weapon your way.

I don’t think she would play along in your flirting at all. She wouldn’t even humor you, just get slightly more angry and flustered.

OH. MY. GOD. There would be SO MUCH unresolved sexual tension. 

Obviously Lute is too loyal to heaven to give into lust so there’s just a lot of pining, lingering touches, and bedroom eyes.

Threats are definitely the main love language here.

“That’s right run! I’m going to ruin that pretty face of yours when I catch you, you vile creature,”

“Aw, Lute! I never imagined you were such a flirt,” You would wink back, thrusting your dagger towards her in a swift motion.

She dodged it and fell back, “I—I meant with my spear, you sick pervert!” 

“Still called me pretty.”

“UGH, I’m going to rip your head off its shoulders!” she would storm at you and hope you dodge her blow last second.

If one of you ends up on top of the other while fighting, that would literally kill her.

You would both be so close, breathing into eachother, faces inches apart, lips slightly parted and—

“Distracted much, Lute?” You would raise your eyebrow and she would immediately switch positions and fall back into the rest of the exterminators.

I do think that as much as she pretends to hate you, she would genuinely loose her shit if one of the other exterminators hurt you.

Like she would be screaming at them.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You think you can just attack her like that and—“ She would realize how this looked and correct herself “—um, with that form? Can you do ANYTHING right, you useless excuse for a soldier?”

Then she would chase you off to where none of the exterminators are watching and corner you.

“I don’t have much time,” she would look over your wound, “Are you alright? Are you— are you bleeding out?”

“Well, I don’t imagine i’m in the best condition, thanks for asking,” you nod down to the where the angel stabbed you and glance back up at her. 

She looked off, almost like she was genuinely concerned. Her hands would hover over the stab wound as she assessed what to do.

“What’s gotten into you?” You would inquire, trying not to wince.

“I just— well, I’m—“ she would stammer, before ripping off a piece of her uniform and pressing it against your injury. You suck in breath.

“I can’t have my favorite enemy dying from an angel who’s not me.” She would finish, trying to sound cold even though her voice was borderline wavering.

“Sounds like you’re going soft on me,” You smirk weakly.

“Never going to happen, demon,” she would almost smile at you. 

There would be a moment of silence as her fingers grave your open cut and linger against your stomach.

She cleared her throat, awkwardly, “Apply pressure to the wound and clean it as soon as you can. You’ll be fine.”

With that, she would leave and go back to slaughtering demons, probably wishing she could have stayed with you.

a/n — smut of her later tonight because i’m obsessed and need her biblically (Haha)

Also you guys are so Once More to See You by Mitski coded.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel lute #lute x reader #lute hazbin hotel #wlw x reader #rival Lute

[faetreides]

summary: feyd rautha x emperor’s afab oldest child!reader

cw: feet stuff, piss kink, implied eventual knifeplay/blood play, cannabalism, arranged marriage, feyd being so weird but reader lowkey loves it, facesitting but the kind where feyd would beg you to break his neck, spanking/mild painplay, very likely ooc feyd since i haven’t seen part 2 yet, use of “princes” and “wife”, wedding hunt and black cum hcs taken from @valeskafics , reader doesn’t really know what’s going on but they’re vibing

wc: 1.4k

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

Collapsing in relief has never been more appealing. You finally have a moment of respite after vigorous and exhausting wedding festivities, and you need to collect yourself. This marriage to the Na-Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen was only brought to your attention a week before it would take place.

Surprisingly, you didn’t really mind the man himself. It was just so sudden, is all. During any visits with his family, you had to be mindful of how you reacted to his cocky displays of ruthlessness and violence. Your father would have your head if he saw how tight you squeezed your thighs together or how much you panicked at the thought of leaving a puddle on your throne. Feyd always marked his departure with a cliche kiss to the back of your hand and a hissed promise that you couldn’t make out.

He would protect you at the very least if he didn’t love you. You’re not even sure that you love him, but this shameful crush could grow into something untamable if you lose your footing. Something… unbecoming of a member of the royal family. You wonder if it already has.

The wedding was as grand as could be, glittering decorations and finery followed by archaic rituals to please your in-laws. The Wedding Hunt in particular sent your heartbeat into overdrive, but the satisfaction on your betrothed’s face when he caught his “prize” was intoxicating. Feyd Rautha kisses like he kills, you were quick to discover, fiercely and uncaring of any blood that might be shed.

You’re brought out of your reminiscing by your now husband closing the door to your room behind him. You only have another day with your family before you’re to leave for Giedi Prime. There has hardly been time to get to know the man you will lie beside for the rest of your life, until now.

“Wife.” He bluntly greets you, awkwardly nodding his head in an effort to maintain his “tough” image. You won’t tease him about the barest hint of blush on his cheekbones, but you treasure it nonetheless.

You humor him, “Husband.” Your nod mirrors his and you take a seat at the long table in the middle of the room after Feyd pulls a chair out for you.

This was the next part of the ritual, where the newly married couple must eat a meal that one partner made for the other. It sounds simple enough that you don’t think anything of it.

Feyd makes a gesture and your food is placed before you by one of your family’s servants. They look a bit queasy and green in the face but they’re gone before you can ask if they’re alright.

“I hope you like it, princess.” Feyd says with a barely there smirk, pointing to the… pie in front of you. “I cut down many people for it.”

You raise an eyebrow at that but bring your knife to take a slice of the pie anyway. Upon lifting the piece onto your plate, you notice eyeballs, flesh, tongues, and some sort of black liquid running throughout the filling. You freeze in place, not even meeting your husband’s eyes. One blue eye seems to twitch and the black substance makes a sick sound as you move it around with your fork.

“The other men who your father considered, my concubines….. I actually can’t tell you which of them are in that slice, but they are all there.” He whispers in your ear, having gotten up from his position opposite you to feed you himself.

You respect the ritual despite your urge to throw up, so you swallow what he gives you. He grins, swiping a thumb down to your throat to feel the food travel. He squeezes your cheeks when you’re done, and you open your mouth to show him that you ate it all.

“That’s my princess.” He condescendingly croons, bending down to run his tongue all over your face before standing up and pushing you to lie flat on the cold table. “But I'm afraid that it’s time for me to have my meal.”

Your elaborate wedding gown is slashed to shreds, the cool tip of his blade moving down your flesh until it reaches your lace covered mound. He taps the hilt of his weapon on your hood and unceremoniously tosses it on the floor.

You didn’t expect the reveal of your wedding night attire to be under such unorthodox circumstances, but can you say you expected any of this?

“A worthy bride with a body to match, thank you for this gift, your highness”. He says in a half joking manner, grinning with too many teeth as he runs his hands along the delicate material. He toys with the idea of cutting this little number to pieces too, but your holes are left conveniently exposed. Maybe he’s fallen too in love with it, he’s been in love with you since you met years ago anyway.

The lingerie is a custom designed piece littered with straps and sheer fabric that leave nothing to the imagination. Your tits are accentuated by a seashell-like pattern bra and there’s even a little black bow above your pussy. The frilly strips of material wrapped around your thighs do nothing to keep your curves contained and the tiny tulle skirt frames your ass beautifully.

Your husband drinks in the sight of you before pulling your ankles to rest on his shoulders. You watch in arousal and shock as he broadly licks the sole of your right foot. He groans unabashedly, nuzzling at your heel and then dipping his tongue in the spaces between your toes. You wiggle at the ticklish feeling but you don’t kick him away.

He really gets into it when he starts sucking your toes, bobbing his head and making sure you’re watching as curls his tongue around each one. His eyes roll back in pleasure once he reaches the last toe on your other foot, and drool trickles down your leg when he’s done getting acquainted with the taste of it. He presses a kiss to the top of each toe but then the weird softness is ruined by the bite he adorns your ankle with.

Feyd’s mouth makes a slick popping sound as he pulls away from your feet. You’re at a loss for words when he proceeds to lie down on the table beside you. He gropes your breast quickly and leans over to give you a surprisingly chaste peck. The look on his face is a smug one but his eyes say something unknown to you, soft and obsessive all at once. It’s as if he knows something you don’t.

“Now sit on my face, claim your new throne, princess.”

You don’t know how long he keeps you hostage there, your cunt soaking him as he devours you to the bone. He doesn’t let you become too relaxed, nipping your clit as he sees fit and clawing the skin of your ass. Eventually your gut aches and though at first you think you’re about to cum already, the second heartbeat in your clit feels different. You come to a horrifying realization that you need to relieve yourself.

“H-husband, what the fuck- I… I need to pee.” You’d rather be dead than doing what you are and saying what you are, but nature calls.

“Yes, that’s it.” He growls and digs his nails into your ass, jigging the globes in his hands before sharply slapping them. “Piss all over my face, get me wet with it like a good wife.”

The shriek you let out when you do just that is abhorrent. Your legs shake as you spray hot pee on your husband’s skin, the gold mixing with the white of your simultaneous orgasm as it drips down his body. You try to move off of Feyd but he tightens his grip on your ass and yanks you back down. The sensation of a hungry mouth desperately sucking the fluids from you drives you wild.

“You have…… fuck- y-you have to stop, hah- i’m going to break.” You sob.

He chuckles into your piss covered pussy and then pulls away to speak, “Then break, a wife of House Harkonnen doesn’t need to be put together.”

You think you hear him say something about using his blade on your body later, but that might just be your own perverted idea.

#kinktober #feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd oneshot #feyd smut #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha smut #dune #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune smut #dune x you #dune x reader #tw foot #tw piss #yandere themes #austin butler #austin butler x reader #dark fic #- coded #⚰️.deaddove #tw cannabalism #austin butler smut #austin butler x you #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic

[star-girl69]

Apocalypse

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: a day of capture the flag, and clarisse finds out you’re ashamed of your scars.

a/n: love love love love love also from this ask

Apocalypse - Cigarettes After Sex

warnings: shitty ending but IDC!!!!!!!, hurt/comfort, more hurt/comfort, god i need to be put down, insecure y/n, scars and all that stuff, possessive clarisse, protective clarisse, soft clarisse, probs ooc clarisse, yeah, swearing, mentions of food, mac n’ cheese is y/n’s fav but you can just pretend if you’re a weirdo and don’t like mac n’ cheese, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

“I don’t get it,” he laughs. “How can you be a daughter of Aphrodite and still have those ugly scars all over you?”

You pretend like you don’t hear him, leaning your head back against the tree, staring up at the blue sky through the gaps.

Him and his two friends have been teasing you the entire 20 minutes you’ve been tied up to this tree, captured by the blue team.

That was horribly embarrassing, but you were doing your best to ignore it- instead doing your best to pray to whatever God would listen that Clarisse would win for the red team.

It’s just plain stupid. He’s been saying the same thing over and over again for 20 minutes- can he at least come up with something original?

Besides, you don’t see where he gets off from this. It’s not like you give any reaction, or even look at him. The most you give him is the occasional squeeze of your hands- imagining his neck under them.

“Maybe she’s forsaken you,” he hums, kicking at your limp leg.

You finally look up at him. You’re sitting on the ground, arms at your sides, back pressed to the tree and rope digging tightly into your chest.

“Maybe your mother gave up on you after the second scar,” he says, staring straight into your eyes. “And then you’ve just gotten uglier and uglier ever since.”

You have scars all over your body. Clarisse has them too, and she shows them off proudly, a dramatic story for each one. You have a horrible memory, so you don’t remember all of them- but the tiny one on your jawline is from you accidentally tripping with scissors in your hand as a kid.

Clarisse had laughed hysterically when you told her about that one, pulling you closer when you pouted, saying something about how she was going to carry all scissors for you in the future.

The one on your collarbone is from sparring gone awry. Clarisse likes to kiss that one- it’s silvery smooth, she says some bullshit about how it feels like your lips.

The big one on your arm is from some clawed monster getting a bit too close to you- slashing at your arm and leaving a permanent tattoo of your failure to kill the monster. Or at least successfully run away.

Then, there’s all the tiny ones you can’t remember.

The boy, you seriously don’t even know his name, looks at you. There’s fire in his eyes, he wants a fight, but you won’t give him one. Especially not when your stomach squeezes inside of you in a way that makes you feel like you might throw up.

The conch mercifully blows, even as you feel sick- you don’t want to let his words effect you. But you just can’t help it.

He gives you an odd look, like he’s contemplating just leaving you out there- but eventually releases you. You stand up, dusting yourself off, grabbing your sword from where it was discarded on the ground.

“Good game!” you say, smiling brightly, but you can’t even pretend to be nice to him, so it tapers off into a laugh. He glares at you, but you’re already jogging through the woods, eager to see Clarisse again.

—-

The blue flag waves proudly above a sea of orange camp t-shirts and red helmets, so you smile widely and skip down to the beach. Your team has formed this huge pit of people, everyone congratulating each other, shouting and celebrating. You stick your sword in the sand as you head into it- one person on your mind.

“Clarisse!” you shout, heading straight towards the middle. “Clarisse!”

She actually rips apart two people hugging to meet you.

“Baby!” she says, even when the two people give her dirty looks, pushing past them and into your arms. “We won!” she giggles, kissing your cheek.

“I know,” you smile, digging your face into her neck. She holds you there for just a moment, hand on the back of your head, relishing in the feeling of her girlfriend running to her after a long day.

“Are you tired?” she fusses, squeezing your waist. “What happened? Did you get hurt? I knew I should have made you stay with me-”

“No, Clar,” you laugh, taking your face out of the hiding spot that is her neck and pressing your noses together. “I got captured,” you sigh.

Her fingers wind through your hair.

She scans the crowd, like she might just beat up any random member of the blue team.

“If they don’t learn to not fucking touch you I am going to make them learn.”

“Guard dog,” you tease her.

“And?” she says, leaning down to kiss the scar she loves kissing, right at the beginning of your collarbone. It makes you freeze. “You love it,” she mumbles against your skin.

You can’t think of an answer.

When you stay silent, she looks up at you, confusion in her face.

“What? You look… sad. Did something happen? What aren’t you telling me?”

“N-nothing,” you breathe, because it’s just embarrassing to know you let his words get to you like this.

“You can tell me anything,” she says, searching your eyes.

“I know.”

The conch blows, making you jump at the sudden loud noise. “Lunch!” someone shouts, and Clarisse settles for just grabbing your hand, walking with you back to camp.

—-

You stop by your cabins first, taking off your armor and switching into clean camp shirts. You hesitate for a second, but eventually put on a thin long-sleeved shirt under the orange.

You take extra care in reapplying your makeup, making sure to cover the scar on your collarbone and your jaw, and once everything is as covered as it’s gonna get you set out.

Clarisse is waiting for you outside the Aphrodite cabin, smiling as you open the door, applying lipstick with one hand. She grabs your hand and helps you down the steps, admiring the way you’re so intensely focused on getting the perfect lip, even without a mirror.

It’s not like you have to try very hard, but still.

“I don’t mind waiting a second longer,” she says, bringing you closer by the waist as you tube the lipstick and stick it in your pocket.

“You’re a hungry demon after capture the flag.”

“Yeah,” she says, not really trying to deny it.

You smile and lean against her, pressing a short kiss to your lips.

“Oh, do I look pretty now?” she asks, rubbing in the lipstick that came off onto her lips.

“Always,” you smile.

Her eyes focus in on the green sleeves pulled up to your wrists.

“It’s, like, 100 degrees, baby. You’re gonna boil.”

You frown and shake your head. “No, it’s not that bad. I’m cold.”

She looks at you oddly, but seems to begrudgingly accept it, hand against your forehead as she brushes your hair back. You make it into the buffet style line for lunch, grabbing plates, Clarisse quickly piling hers with a cheeseburger and a hot dog, making you laugh.

“You’re so hungry, all the time,” you mutter when she gives you a dirty look.

“I work out all the time,” she glares. She flexes her arm. “All of this takes a lot of work.”

You stare at her muscles peeking out from just under her sleeves, biting your lip as you quickly look away. She smiles brightly.

“Uh huh, that’s what I thought. You love these muscles, don’t judge me.”

You make your way down the line, scanning the trays of food.

“Ooh,” Clarisse coos, “They have your fave, pretty thing.”

She scoops probably the biggest portion of mac n’ cheese you’ve ever seen in your life, slapping it onto your plate with a smile.

You gape at the now almost empty tray, remembering the still long line behind you. Hopefully there’s another one somewhere.

“Clarisse, we should save some for everyone else.”

She seems actually confused by that statement.

“Uh, yeah, no. My girl gets the best.”

“Clarisse-” but you’ve reached the end of the line and she heads off to a table. You follow her, begrudgingly, because you really do covet this mac n’ cheese like it’s ambrosia.

—-

By the time the night rolls around, you’ve retreated into the blankets of your bed, feeling much safer completely covered up. You’re supposed to be going to the bonfire- all of your siblings have come over and bugged you at least once about going, but you’ve refused them all.

Finally, all of your siblings leave in their pretty but revealing outfits- after today, you don’t think you could ever wear something like that again.

The door to your cabin creaks open.

“Y/N?”

You make a mumbled sound in the back of your throat that’s supposed to resemble “I’m here” but Clarisse is already walking over to you and pulling the blanket off of you.

“Silena told me you were staying back. Why?”

You pull the blanket back up over yourself.

“I’m jus’ tired.”

“Okay…” she says, sitting down on the bed. She puts her warm hand to your forehead. “Are you sick? Do you have a headache?”

“No, Clar, I’m fine.”

“I’m confused,” she huffs. “You love the bonfires. Something is obviously wrong, why won’t you tell me?”

“I’m just tired, Clarisse, that’s all.”

“Fine,” she says. “I can be tired too.”

She kicks off her shoes and climbs into bed with you, under the blankets, chest pressed against your back.

“I’m not good at this. You know that,” she sighs after a second. “And I wish I was. But I do know something’s wrong. And I really don’t know for the life of me what it is, but I really want to know. I really want to help you.”

She traces her fingertips up and down your arms, tracing over the silvery scar from the monster- and you involuntarily jerk away.

“Oh,” she says. She’s painfully observant. She notices everything. She notices you pulling away when she touches your scars. “Your scars.”

Tears well in your eyes before you can stop them.

“W-when I got captured, this boy kept teasing me. And I tried not to let it bother me, I tried not to give him a reaction… but I just- what if I’m not worthy of my mother anymore? It’s embarrassing. I know. But I…”

“Who the fuck said that to you?”

She sits up, eyes blazing, like she can just imagine it and whoever hurt you will suddenly feel her wrath.

You turn around so you’re facing her, laughing.

“I don’t even know his stupid name,” you mutter.

She looks down at you, at the tears spilling from your pretty eyes.

“I’ll kill him later,” she mumbles, settling back down and kissing the corner of your cheek. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, baby. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I’ve never met your mother, of course, so I can say that without getting us both struck down by doves, or something.”

You swat her chest.

“I’ll kill you with doves, watch me.”

She hums. “Probably. Okay, stop. You’re getting me off topic.”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m not good with my words,” she whispers. “But I hope I show you everyday that you are the only woman I have eyes for. This is, like, really embarrassing… but I’ve planned out our entire lives together. We’re gonna go to to college in Arizona by my mom, we’ll have an apartment off-campus, and after we graduate we’ll get married. I really wanna be married to you. And I don’t care if that’s cheesy, I just really want you to look at the ring I’ll give you and be able to feel all my love. Besides, if you ever want to get away from me, it’ll be a hell of a lot harder.”

“I would never wanna get away from you, Clar,” you smile. “It’s not embarrassing. I wanna go to college in Arizona. I wanna marry you.”

“Good, because you didn’t really have a choice,” she smiles.

“And you’re plenty good with your words.”

“Yeah… okay, I guess. But let me show you, too.”

“What does that even-”

She shuts you up by kissing your lips.

“I love your lips. I love how soft they are, and how they feel so perfect against me.”

She kisses your cheek.

“I like your cheeks for the same reasons.”

Your temple, your forehead, your nose.

“Same reasons,” she smiles.

Finally she ends up at your jawline. She rubs over the scar, taking concealer and foundation with the pad of her thumb.

“And I love this scar. It looks kind of like a C, so everyone knows you’re mine.”

“Freak,” you huff, and she doesn’t have to say it. You both know you love it.

She kisses your neck and talks about how she loves the way you get mad at her for leaving hickeys, the dedication you pour into covering them up before you eventually decide it’s too much effort and let them show.

She kisses the scar on your collarbone.

“I like putting my head here, right under your chin. I can feel your pulse. I can hear you swallow, too, which is weird but also soothing.”

She kisses from your shoulder and down to your arm, skimming past the scar. She kisses the back of your hand and your fingertips.

“I love it when you braid my hair, or just put your hands in my hair for… other reasons.”

“Freak,” you mumble again. “You’re just obsessed with kissing me.”

“True,” she hums, kissing back up to your scar. “I don’t have anything poetic to say about this one. It’s just fucking badass. I mean, you got it when you were 12- you survived what most have been something truly monstrous to leave a scar like this, and that’s all you get? Most of the kids here would have died. Even the ones our age. And you escaped when you were only 12.”

You smile like a lovesick fool. The apocalypse could be going on outside, and you would just be here with Clarisse.

“In conclusion, your beauty is actually life changing. I mean, have you seen me? I become a total softie, just for you. And it’s all because I like seeing that pretty smile on your gorgeous face. But you frown pretty, too, which I didn’t even know was possible- so I win either way.”

You smile and put your hand on her face, kissing her softly.

“Thank you, Clar. For always taking care of me, and reassuring me…”

“It’s quite literally my job,” she smiles. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it.”

“You don’t even trust me, Little Miss Makes-My-Plate-For-Me.”

She laughs and presses her head under your chin, her hair tickling your skin, pressing a kiss to your scar.

“It’s my job,” she smiles. “As your girlfriend and future wife.”

“I love you, Clarisse,” you whisper, a secret just for the two of you. Nothing can have you here. No pain, no suffering.

“I love you too,” she says. “I love you so much, my beautiful, beautiful girl.”

—-

the kid who bullied you walking around with a big ass scar on his cheek the next day 😍😍😍😍😍 no….. no clarisse did not cut him with her spear….. ofc not….

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

[melrodrigo]

Secrets - Cairo Sweet

Cairo Sweet x Reader

Summary: Cairo comes to you after she has her first big heartbreak, but finds something other than comfort.

Warnings: (teeny) underage drinking, Cairo has a lot of mood swings, it eventually ends happy!

A/n: Not sure if I hate this but a cairo fic as promised! enjoy <3

When Cairo told you about her crush on Mr.Miller, you were (rightfully) disgusted. He was at least twice her age, a teacher, and wasn’t even that hot.

You thought maybe it was something silly, a joke if you will, to humor you on a particularly boring school day.

But over the weeks, things changed. It was subtle, but not enough for your keen eye to miss. Something in Cairo’s eyes sparkled, a look you’ve never seen from her before.

She would gush about him after class, and during she would stare at him, blatantly, open with her intentions. It was hard for you to watch.

But the worst thing? He stared back.

Weeks of weird sexual tension and seeing them outside of school, you’d grown more and more sick at the thought that this could be real.

Something people needed to know about Cairo was that she was a dreamer. She might seem realistic on the surface, but secretly, deep deep down, she yearned for that fantasy love she was always writing about.

You could kinda understand the appeal, you guess. An older man, a writer. Still, that didn’t stop it from leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

So when she came bursting through your door two weeks later sobbing, you hadn’t known that you would realize there might’ve been something else holding you back from being so supportive of her actions.

The minute you’d opened the door she came rushing into your arms. You wrapped her up, rubbed her back as she calmed down.

“Please don’t cry.” You told her, in a way that Cairo felt wasn’t ignorant but comforting. Like you cared so much about her if she cried it might tear your heart apart. The way you were looking at her in that moment, she couldn’t help herself from wondering if maybe you did care for her as more than friends.

You were certainly the character. Her attractive, sweet, considerate friend. The complete opposite from Winnie. More reserved and a poet at heart. Really, she’d never kissed a girl, but she definitely wouldn’t have a problem kissing you.

Before she knows it, or before she can stop herself, she’s tilting her face up and grabbing your hair towards her. The moment your lips touch it’s fire.

She catches the sight of your surprised face for a second before you close your eyes and surge forward, with more weight than she would’ve expected. A weight that’s not at all unwelcome.

The more the kiss escalates the more she feels like needs more. It’s primal. The pure lust she’s feeling.

Her hands tangle in your hair, yours in hers. She leans in to press her body against yours, desperately seeking more skin-on-skin contact.

You happily let her do so, mind foggy with lust and her and her and her.

“Cairo.” You groan into her mouth, unbelieving that this is really happening.

She gives you no indication that she hears it, only takes that opportunity to slip her tongue in, breathing heavily.

It feels so good, and her scent fills your nostrils. The smell you love so much, something of a mix of pinewood and cinnamon.

But there’s something else- a sour smell that’s so strong it almost burns.

You realize all at once what it is. Alcohol. How you didn’t notice it before on her breath was a wonder. It’s enough to break you out of your trance.

“Cairo.” You say, more forcefully this time, pulling away and pushing her down onto the side of your bed.

She whips her head around, confusion and hurt so clear on her face you feel yourself crumble a little.

“What?” She asks, eyes glazing over. There’s conviction in her tone. You know she gets like this, defensive, when she gets hurt. Your eyes widen at the realization of what you just did.

“Oh- no,no,no. I didn’t mean it like that.” You blubber, trying to fix things before she misunderstands. She stares at you hard, squinting slightly.

“You’re drunk Cairo, you don’t mean any of this.” You say, hoping she’ll come to her senses and agree with you.

Even though this is a dream come true, you don’t want to ruin your friendship for one night of bliss. Not to mention she’s drunk, a good deal so, and it would just leave you feeling dirty.

“I’m drunk but I’m very much aware of what I’m doing. What, you think just cuz i’m intoxicated I’ll fuck anyone?” She hisses, inching closer to you, menacing despite her small frame.

You gulp. “That’s not what I said.”

It comes out in a weak mumble. Cairo rolls her eyes. Her annoyance fires up something in you, and this time you speak stronger.

“You know that’s not what I meant. You’re drunk, I don’t want to take advantage of you. Even if you want to now, how am I gonna know you won’t regret it later?” You say, watching as Cairo gets so close to you that you’re face to face.

“I’m not going to regret it.” She slurs, wrapping a hand around your neck and pulling.

You resist, but she doesn’t care. Her grip tightens until she’s pulling slightly at your hair. You tell her to stop once but it falls on deaf ears.

“Cairo I’m serious. You’re hurting me.” You plead again, and the voice crack that leaves your lips seem to be the thing that brings her back to life. She blinks once, twice, the brown returning back to her doe eyes slowly but surely.

She retracts, pulling her hands back and looking embarrassed.

“I’m sorry.” She says, bottom lip quivering. You stay silent, unsure of what to do.

“Y/n I’m really sorry.” She says again, eyes sorrowful.

The mood swings on this girl, you secretly think.

You take her hand in yours, and look into her eyes. You know she’s telling the truth, you know all her tells. The slight quiver of her eyebrow, the way she plays with the nape of her neck. She means her apology.

You sigh tiredly.

“It’s okay, really. Let’s just talk about this later when you’re sober, alright?” You suggest gently, watching her nod her head carefully.

“How about you sleep on my bed today hm? I’ll sleep on the floor. I don’t want you going home in this state.” You prod, and when she agrees, you move her, softly like you’re handling something that might break at any moment. You settle her onto your bed and under the covers.

“Y/n?” She calls out when you’re fluffing your extra pillows to prepare for your bed on the floor, voice already sounding sleepy. You hum in response.

“Will you sleep next to me? I promise I won’t pull anything again.” And the way she says it, you know you could never be able to deny.

You wordlessly slip in beside her, suddenly rigid with nerves. The feelings you were feeling when she first came in were returning. Could it be that you liked Cairo?

The quiet atmosphere doesn’t help with your swimming thoughts. You don’t think you’ll be able to sleep much next to her, you feel a little tingly all around.

A couple minutes pass by and when you’re sure you’ve heard Cairo start snoring, you try and step out the covers, desperate for some relief of your wildly beating heart.

An arm drapes around your body before you can begin to move, and you peer over to see Cairo with half lidded eyes, sleepily telling you not to go.

You had no choice now- how were you to leave? It was like waking up an adorable animal that fell asleep on you.

You scoot your body closer to her so she doesn’t have to reach for you so much, and try to relax.

Not five minutes go by before Cairo pokes your cheek and speaks again, amusement in her tone.

“Your heart is beating very fast.”

#cairo sweet x reader #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x reader #cairo sweet #millers girl

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training IX (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

You stood by the window, watching Peter in the yard as he talked to Clint and Tony. Of all the husbands here, you interacted with Clint the least. He didn’t strike you as mean or strict as Steve but then again, how were you to know? It didn’t matter how nice any of these men seemed, none of them were right in the head to be doing any of this. Laura seemed happy enough, but again… So did Margaret, and you knew firsthand how cruel Steve could be.

…and Tony was a whole other misogynistic can of worms. You thought Steve was bad, and still did, but somehow you hadn’t thought that any other husband could be almost as bad as him. It only served to remind you that not only did you know nothing about these men, but no matter how much better you might’ve thought any of them were than Steve, at the end of the day, they were right here with him doing the same things he was.

Peter seemed to get along well with all of the husbands here, and you found yourself briefly wondering how they all even knew each other. You’d had the passing wonder before, but never long enough to really consider the answer. He was so at ease with every single one, including Steve, and it once again forced you to consider the kind of man he was to do so.

After your unexpected blowup—or tantrum—Peter didn’t leave your side much these days, and you hated how much you didn’t want him to. You were self-aware enough to realize just how much you were starting to need Peter, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop needing him. You needed him to keep the nightmares at bay, to reassure you that you wouldn’t screw anything up in the kitchen, to give you the courage to answer any question Steve wanted to throw your way at dinner.

You realized what was happening, but you couldn’t stop it.

You were starting to feel helpless without him around, feeling lost and lonely. You couldn’t go outside, not yet anyway, and anytime Peter did, you’d forlornly stare after him, wondering when you’d be able to.

“When Steve feels you’re ready,” the brunette told you hours later.

Your feelings about that must’ve been displayed on your face because Peter neared you just as you started to turn away.

“He just wants to be sure that you won’t…”

He trailed off as he took your face into his hands, but the unspoken words were as clear as day. Why did it even matter if you’d try and run or not? One of them would catch you, anyway, and besides. The thought of getting caught and getting thrown back into the basement was enough to make you shudder.

“It’s not like I’d actually get away,” you mumbled, hating the truth in that statement.

Peter’s thumbs brushed over your skin as he drank you in, a slight frown between his brows.

“You might,” he murmured. “…and I’d hate that.”

You studied him with a frown of your own.

“You don’t understand how much I’ve grown to care about you,” he said. “If I lost you, I’d be devastated.”

You didn’t know how to feel about that statement, wanting to argue that you weren’t even his to care about. Peter would never have come to care about you in any form if he hadn’t kidnapped you. It was sick, really, but as he looked at you, you could only feel confusion filling you at his declaration. You couldn’t find the logic in that. All you did was scream and cry and walk around thus place like a frazzled chicken with her head cut off.

Why would Peter miss you?

“You would…?”

Peter blinked at you like you’d just said something crazy, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“Of course, I would,” he breathed. “I don’t think I could even try to find someone else. I chose you, and I chose right.”

You looked down, gaze finding the floor as he sighed.

“You know what all the other women are expected to do. You’ve met Margaret’s daughter and Laura’s son,” he continued. “That’s important, not something to be taken lightly, and you’re who I chose. You’re who I want to have a family with. I would lose it if I lost you.”

Peter’s words were overwhelming you in more ways than one, and you took a step back from him, walking around him and sitting on the bed. The thought of what your future entailed made your breathing short, but was it insane to say that talking about this with just you and Peter made it…easier? You could feel him near you, and you swallowed when his hand met your shoulder.

“Don’t think of it so badly,” he softly told you. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

His other hand touched your chin, fingers gently pressing into your skin as he turned and tilted your head up, forcing you to look at him. His brown eyes were warm, almost pleading as he gave you a soft smile.

“I will make you so happy. You’ll be so happy with me.”

You turned your head away at that, blinking back tears as you thought of your friends. Your chest still ached painfully when you thought of them and everything surrounding their deaths. Never mind how disrespectful it felt to their memories to find some contentment in your situation, but you couldn’t stomach the thought of living in harmony with the same people who’d put them in their graves.

It was horrifying.

As if he’d read your mind, Peter spoke.

“Your friends didn’t hesitate to try and protect you,” he slowly said. “They died for you…so, don’t you think they’d hate to see you suffering…?”

Your stomach twisted at that, and you hurriedly stood. You walked away from Peter, but despite his lack of movement, his voice still followed you.

“They would want you to be happy…some kind of way.”

Peter didn’t know your friends, so it wasn’t his place to even say that. Even still, while he wasn’t wrong, they’d be horrified to see you succumb to this. It would break MJ’s heart to see you so beaten down that you’d take the same hand that might as well had put them in the ground. They wouldn’t want this for you, and yet, it seemed inevitable.

You heard Peter move closer, and you tensed when his hand met your arm. You wouldn’t look at him, but you could feel him leaning in, deeply inhaling the scent of you. His chest grazed your back, and when he leaned around to brush his lips over your cheek, you didn’t protest.

“I won’t rush you,” he quietly said. “It’s just something to think about.”

His nose grazed your neck, and he gently sighed.

“I want you to be happy here. That’s all I want…”

When Peter stepped away, you still kept your gaze on the floor, only blinking when he shut the door behind him on his way out.

It was days later when you were eating dinner with everyone else and couldn’t help but feel like something was…off. You weren’t one of the ones to help with dinner that night, and so from the moment you sat down, something just didn’t feel quite right. The atmosphere felt tense in a way you hadn’t felt before, and for once, Steve wasn’t the source.

In fact, the blond man seemed to be in a good mood. It wasn’t up to you to say if that was rare or not, but at least in your presence it seemed to be. Truthfully, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint why dinner felt weird. As far as you could tell, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Steve had complimented Pepper and Jane on the food, they’d thanked him in unison, and everyone had drifted into hushed conversation as they always did. Peter kept touching your arm here and there, something Steve certainly noticed if the way you’d accidentally catch his eye was anything to go by. It was only when you looked over, catching Natasha’s gaze, did you pause.

It was hard to pinpoint the look in her eyes to be honest. Her entire visage was unreadable, and the longer she held your gaze, the more you frowned. You had started to wonder if you’d done something to offend the redhead when her façade cracked…ever so slightly. If you hadn’t been studying her so hard, you would’ve missed it, but for half a second, no more than a moment, her entire face had crumbled.

If you’d blinked, you would’ve missed it, that’s how fast it had happened.

In a split second, her entire face had smoothed out to the unreadable perfection it had been before. You watched as she continued eating, finally breaking her stare, and you frowned. You glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed, namely Steve, but you seemed to be the only one who had. It had confused you, something that lasted for days until Jane had been the one to finally tell you.

The pretty brunette looked unsure at first, deeply staring into the potted plant she was tending to. She’d stopped what she was doing, and you didn’t miss the way her hands trembled a little. She glanced over her shoulder, and you knew why, following her lead. Peter had taken it upon himself to be near you, knowing how much better it made you feel, and while he wasn’t just outside the door to the greenhouse, his close proximity made her nervous.

“If Peter hears…he won’t say anything…”

You didn’t know why you were taking up for him, but it was the truth. There were a million things you’d done and said that he could’ve—should have—told Steve and didn’t. Peter protected you from Steve’s ire more times than you could count. You trusted him, and you wanted Jane to know that she could too.

She softly sighed, struggling to meet your eye.

“Nat… You said something the other week that worried her. It…it made her a little concerned…”

You frowned, unable to follow as you wracked your brain.

“She asked Bucky about how you got here…and why we needed to be so understanding with you…?”

You blinked in realization, shoulders drooping as you felt your face fall. Oh. You didn’t know how to feel that you were right in your assumptions that Natasha hadn’t known. None of them did, it seemed, and when your eyes met Jane’s again, her own glistened with tears.

“You weren’t alone when they took you,” she slowly said, voice strained.

It came out more like a question, almost like she didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t move for a moment, pulling your lip between your teeth before finally shaking your head. Jane sharply inhaled at your confirmation, and she looked away. Your own gaze landed on the floor, and you hated how much your skin grew cold at the mention of your friends.

“We didn’t know,” she breathed. “…and you were there when they…?”

She trailed off, unable to say it, and you felt your own eyes burn.

You could feel her gaze on you, wanting confirmation for what she already knew. Only, you couldn’t give it to her, staring at the floor as your vision grew blurry. The plants and walls around you grew fainter and fainter, and slowly but surely, you weren’t in the greenhouse anymore. You felt your lips tremble, and you faintly heard Jane calling your name.

Your hands were no longer dirty with soil and grime but instead blood. All you could see was Wanda being shot with a swiftness and efficiency that shocked you. You could hear MJ screaming at you to run, her hand tight on yours, and you hadn’t realized that you’d started crying until you felt familiar hands on your arms.

“I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have said anything…”

You thought she was talking to you, but Peter’s soft voice in your ear told you otherwise. He was rubbing his hands up and down your arms, soothing words leaving him as he tried to calm you down.

“You’re okay,” he cooed, helping you stand to your feet.

The plant in your hand had long fell, the plot cracking slightly as the sound of it meeting the ground reached your ears. Peter pulled you into him, arms tight around you as you pressed your face into his shoulder. Through the haze and overwhelming emotions that threatened to drown you at the memory of your friends’ murders, you could hear Peter’s voice.

Only, unlike with you, it was hard, tone cold and almost venomous in nature.

“You know better, Jane.”

Peter tightly held you as he guided upstairs, and you hated the thought of him talking to Jane like that just because you were a broken mess. The mere mention of your friends or the mere sight of blood shouldn’t send you spiraling. Deep in the back of your mind, you knew that your reaction was reasonable, understandable, but you couldn’t help but feel like a burden and inconvenience to everyone.

“You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t talk to Jane like that,” you sobbed once you were in your room.

You hated the thought of her getting trouble.

“She knows better,” Peter told you, kneeling in front of you as he sat you down on the bed. “They all know to be careful with what they say around you.”

You shook your head, pressing your hands to your face.

“…but none of them knew why! You didn’t tell them? You didn’t tell them what they did to my friends?”

You felt hysterical, and truthfully, you didn’t know what triggered it. Maybe it was the fact that now that everyone knew the full circumstances of how you’d been taken you now felt more comfortable to openly grieve? Maybe it was the way Jane had looked at you? The horror and concern on her face had never been on Peter’s or any of the others. Maybe it had something to do with someone other than you finally having an appropriate reaction to what had happened to your friends.

Or maybe it was just as simple as you were a nutcase.

“It wasn’t any of their business,” Peter told you, pushing your hands away and taking your face into his own. “…and this is exactly why because they shouldn’t be bringing this up with you.”

Peter almost sounded angry—almost looked angry—and you shook your head.

“It’s my fault,” you tearfully pleaded with him. “Jane didn’t do anything wrong.”

You had forgotten all about your almost slip up in the kitchen with Natasha that day. It was you who had wrongfully assumed that she knew, and it was only natural of her to be curious and concerned. After all, just because you felt distanced from the other wives, it didn’t mean they felt that way. They’d all built such close relationships with one another, and how could they not in this environment? They were all victims of their circumstances, and you were no different.

Of course, they would care about you just as much.

Peter stood with a sigh, hands on the back of your head as you cried into his stomach. He played with your hair, stroking you and speaking.

“My pretty girl…always worried about someone else,” he murmured.

You reached up, wrapping your arms around his waist. The feel of his hands soothed you, and you held him tighter, wishing that he could be your friends somehow, holding them and saving them from the horror that met them.

You sat on the stairs with your hands in your lap. A few times a week, Peter and the others would meet in the den and go over work-related things. Sometimes household stuff would come up in conversation too. At least, that was what Jane had relayed to you. It was usually during that weird period in the evening after supper and when the wives were looking after the children.

You’d been deemed too unstable to be around the children for prolonged periods of time. You supposed you didn’t fully disagree with that assessment, but you didn’t think you’d ever hurt a child. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hurt yourself no matter how much peace the decision would probably bring you in the long run.

This was a time where you’d find yourself in your room, skin damp and fresh after a bath. You’d already be in bed by the time Peter returned, but tonight seemed to be a night in which everything was taking longer than usual. You didn’t know if it was about work or something to do with the household, but you’d gotten tired of waiting for Peter. You were growing tired, and it was hard to sleep without him.

That’s how you found yourself sitting halfway down the stairs, head drooping and leaning against the wall. Their low voices carried from the den, but only faintly. It wasn’t like you could make anything out, and even if you could, it wouldn’t make any difference to you. It was becoming difficult to stay awake, head falling every now and then. Your body was protesting, telling you that you needed to go to sleep, but you knew that without Peter, you’d be restless and awake within ten minutes.

Somewhere along the way, you must’ve lost the fight because the sound of a light chuckle reached your ears. The voice was somewhat familiar, and you’d started peeling your eyes open just as they spoke.

“Peter, I think you’ve lost something…”

Thor’s voice was light and teasing, and you were relieved that he didn’t seem upset to find you nodding off here. You were blinking sleep away when Peter responded, something unintelligible, and Thor lightly laughed again, arms folded over his chest.

“No, I’m positive she belongs to you,” the blond told him.

You were straightening up just as Peter rounded the corner, and he blinked as his gaze met your tired one. The confusion disappeared from his eyes as he approached you, gaze softening.

“What are you still doing up?” he wondered, touching your face.

“I was waiting for you,” you told him. “You’re normally back by now.”

The brunette didn’t respond right away, tilting his head to the side with a small smile.

“Yeah, I know,” he told you. “Bucky’s being a pain in the ass, but I’ll be up in a little bit.”

You were about to protest when a familiar blond appeared behind Peter, and you felt yourself shrinking in on yourself. Unlike Thor, this blond didn’t look the happiest at the sight of you, and you swallowed.

“She’s not supposed to be here,” Steve said. “What if she overhears something she shouldn’t?”

Peter defended you before you could defend yourself.

“I doubt she heard anything, Steve,” Peter threw over his shoulder. “…and even if she did, what would she do?”

“Even still, she doesn’t have the same privileges the others do. She should be in bed.”

He was talking to Peter, but the blond was looking at you as he said this, blue eyes cold. Your heart sank at the reminder of the lack of faith he had in you, but despite the finality in his tone, you didn’t move. Instead, you looked at Peter, wondering what he wanted you to do, and the brunette took your hand, helping you stand. There was a gleam in his eye that you couldn’t place, and the corner of his mouth quirked up just a tad.

“Go on up,” he gently told you. “I’ll be there in just a little bit.”

You hesitated, gaze lingering on him as you were half turned. Peter smiled at you, the expression reassuring.

“I promise.”

With a small sigh, you did as he said, fighting to hold in a yawn. You could feel his gaze on you, and you glanced at him one more time, your gaze passing over Steve and Thor, before finally turning the corner. You were grateful that Peter was being truthful, the bedroom door opening not even seven minutes later.

You were on the verge of sleep when he joined you, taking your hand and kissing it as he slid into bed beside you. You drowsily blinked as he whispered something that sounded a lot like an apology. You didn’t really care though, finally relaxing, all of the tension leaving you. You were so weighed down with fatigue that you didn’t even care when Peter threaded his fingers through yours.

They were still like that in the morning, and you’d forgotten whatever you were going to say when Peter told you that he had a surprise for you. It was quite early, too early for any of the others to be up and started on breakfast. The excited gleam in his eye had you faltering, nervousness flowing through you before allowing Peter to coax you out of bed.

“Come on,” he urged, pulling you along down the stairs.

Your heart was in your stomach, unable to come up with what was in store for you. Peter’s hand was tight on yours when he made it to the backdoor, turning the knob and letting the nice fresh air in. You didn’t need a mirror to know that there was evident longing in your gaze. Aside from the greenhouse, you hadn’t felt true fresh air in months, and you didn’t really understand what was happening until Peter tugged on your hand.

“What…?” you quietly murmured, eyes wide and unsure as you looked at him.

Peter ran his eyes over you, a small unreadable smile on his lips as he lightly pulled on your arm.

“Come on…”

You looked between his eyes, lips parting before your gaze rested on the outside behind him.

“I…can…?”

You trailed off, and Peter nodded, and you felt your heart skip a beat as you took a step towards him. Slowly, but surely, Peter led you outside, and you almost cried when your bare feet touched the grass. Your eyes burned, and you blinked back tears as you looked around. Peter’s hand was still on yours as you took it all in, and your first thought was that the window didn’t do it justice.

The land that the house sat on was so much bigger than you had ever thought. Under different circumstances, you would’ve been able to admire it wholeheartedly. However, as it were, all you could think about was how the land just seemed to go on and on forever. Peter pulled you through the yard, and you looked around in awe.

You had never noticed that the house wasn’t far from an incline, and down at the bottom of it was a decent sized pond, and beyond it…nothing but trees. It had rained the night before, and your eyes took in the dew on the grass and the light fog that seemed to descend just at your ankles. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, and you felt distracted by it.

You hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed fresh air and the grass and just being outside until you’d gone months without it. You kept walking and drinking it all in. You almost hated how beautiful everything was, and you glanced over to your right at a clothesline near the house. Just on the other side of it, you could see the garden you were always hearing about. You noticed a toy or two in the yard, and you hated to think that if you stumbled upon this property randomly one day, you’d think it was a normal home just like any other.

“Can I come outside later too?”

Peter didn’t respond right away, but when he did, you were shocked at how far away he sounded.

“Of course.”

You looked over your shoulder, and you realized with a start that he was pretty far away. At least, further than you’d thought he was. So distracted by it all, you hadn’t even noticed him letting go of your hand. Or had you let go of his? Either way, he was much closer to the house than you were, and you blinked at him.

“After breakfast, we can come back out here. Maybe you can help out in the garden too…”

He lifted his hand towards you with a smile.

“Come on,” he softly urged you.

You looked at his outstretched hand, brows drawing together just a tad. You looked back towards the pond and the trees…you looked back towards freedom, and you felt your stomach twist. Peter was so far away…but you didn’t doubt that he’d catch you in no time. The thought of reverting back to square one was enough to make you shudder in fear, recalling that day you’d seen Steve punishing Margaret by that very tree just over there.

The next time Peter called after you, he said your name, and his tone had lost some of it’s gentleness. It was sterner now, voice dropping some, and when you looked at him, his smile had fallen just a tad. His brown eyes still held some of their warmth, but there was something in them, a warning that had you tensing.

“Come on, pretty girl…”

Your shoulders drooped, and with one last glance at the trees, you slowly returned to him. Peter’s hand grasped yours, and his smile returned to it’s full luster. Peter pulled you into his side before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your temple. You got the feeling that you’d just passed some kind of test, and you couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. There was a pep in his step unlike before, and despite the fact that you’d clearly done something very right…

…you couldn’t help but feel very wrong.

#peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction

[wqnwoos]

wonwoo barely has time to register that you’re home before you’re grabbing his arm and quite literally tugging him towards the front door.

“babe — ba — what are you doing?” he splutters helplessly, trying to dig his heels in, but some burning enthusiasm seems to have taken over your body.

“wonwoo, it’s raining!”

and you swing the door open simultaneous to him freeing his arm, but that doesn’t matter to you — you’re already dashing out into the sheets of water drumming down on concrete. leaving him standing in the doorway, perplexed, amused, and slightly horrified.

it’s been a while since it’s rained in your area, and wonwoo figures that’s what has you lifting your arms and spinning around, laughing giddily with a sudden rush of euphoria; your eyes closed, clothes drenched, and the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen lifting your lips.

“you’re insane,” he calls, from where he stands, perfectly dry.

(you’re beautiful, he adds, silently.)

your eyes open, then, landing on him, and your smile shifts to something a little more pleading. “dance with me!” you yell, reaching for him, but he’s already shaking his head, laughing:

“absolutely not.”

you retrace your steps, back towards him, grabbing his hands with your wet ones, and shaking them a little — “please,” you say, with widened, beseeching eyes. “just this one time.”

he doesn’t even have time to say no — you’re pulling him into the rain before he can stop you. water drums against his skin; raindrops run rivers down his shirt and his glasses; and somehow, he’s still looking at you.

“dance with me,” you repeat, softer now that you’ve won, and he’s out here getting soaked right beside you.

“there’s no music,” wonwoo replies, one hand pushing wet hair away from your forehead, sliding down to cup your cheek after.

“we don’t need music,” you dismiss easily, smilingly. “dance with me.”

it only takes him a moment to give in, with the smallest of sighs — “just this one time.” he echoes your words back to you, but he can’t help thinking that he’d do this a thousand times over, as long as it was with you.

“and don’t blame me when you wake up sick tomorrow,” he adds, already reaching for your waist, “you did this to yourself.”

you don’t even bother with a verbal response; just one smiling kiss pressed to his cheek as you wrap your arms around him. it makes him smile. the simplest things make him smile, when they’re done by you.

“i think,” he says after a moment, mumbled so softly you barely catch him under the sound of the rain, “this isn’t really dancing. we’re just hugging.”

you don’t care. you just press yourself closer to him, murmuring something about how dancing is overrated, anyway. it makes wonwoo laugh, you feel the vibrations when your head rests on him, and then suddenly he’s kissing you, with intensity so unexpected you almost stumble — and would have, if his arm hadn’t been steadying you from behind.

and just as quickly as it comes, the moment is gone — not forever, but to a tidy little corner of your mind where you preserve the good things. a treasure trove of all the things that keep you going; and the man in front of you, with his forehead pressed against yours, a breathless laugh falling from his lips, is the most precious of them all.

“i love you,” you breathe. it’s barely even a sound, and yet he still catches it. and he still smiles like it’s the first time you’ve told him, when it must be the millionth, at least.

one more kiss, softer and swifter, still smiling as he presses it to your lips, and then wonwoo’s taking your hand.

“i love you too.” (and he says it like a promise, like he always does.) “let’s go inside, you idiot.”

an / requested by an anon!! hope u like it bb 💗 inspired by real events it was storming SO MUCH last night and i went out on the roof and had an excellent time (unfortunately without wonwoo.)

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9

#wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fic #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fanfiction #wonwoo #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen #seventeen x you #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen fanfic